A King's Ransom
by Deadly Chakram
Summary: After the War of The Ring, Legolas is captured and his father receives a ransom note. Now it’s up to Aragorn and Gimli to save Legolas, but will it be too late? Warning: Story will contain violence, elftorture, and a surprise evil character.
1. Taken!

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own any of the LOTR characters, although I do wish that Legolas was mine (dreamy grin).  This fan fiction is for enjoyment purposes only.  I receive absolutely nothing for it (shrugs) with the exception of reviews from readers like you.  So please, do the right thing and read and review.

EXTRA CREDITS: Go to my good buddy Mel for all her help and for her wonderful contributions when I was figuring out who my surprise evil character would be.  Thanks Mel!!! *big smile*

RATED:  PG-13 for violence.

WARNING: Story will contain violence, elf-torture, and a surprise evil character.  So if seeing Legolas in pain isn't your thing…well…don't say I didn't warn you.  Also contains spoilers for those of you that have not read the last of the Lord of The Rings books, "The Return Of The King". 

SUMMARY: After the War of The Ring, Legolas is captured and his father receives a ransom note.  Now it's up to Aragorn and Gimli to save Legolas, but will it be too late?

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Legolas Greenleaf slowly floated back to consciousness and immediately cursed the fact that he had.  Everything hurt on him; the pain blocked out everything else.  He had no idea where he was, or how he'd gotten there.  He tried to move, but as soon as he tried, his body exploded in fresh waves of pain.  He decided to lay still. 

After maybe a quarter of hour had passed, Legolas was finally able to recall pieces of what had happened.  He'd be out with Gimli and a few of Aragorn's men.  They'd been hunting a rouge band of orcs, left over from the great war.  Their group had been no more than a three days journey from Gondor, where Aragorn had only recently been crowned as King, and Arwen as his Queen.  Legolas had fallen to the back of the line of men on the third night of their hunt.  Earlier that day, they had closed much of the distance between themselves and the orcs, but when the men had needed a rest to take in a little food and drink – the first since the previous night – they'd lost track of the orcs.  Not even the keen eyes of the elf could discern where they had gone to.  That night, there had been no moon, and Legolas had taken the rear so as to ensure that no orcs crept up on them from the back.  After that, he couldn't remember what had happened next.

But it was obvious to the elf prince that more had had to have taken place, judging from the pain that washed in endless waves over his body.  He closed his eyes and tried to force his memory back, to see if he could learn anything else of his capture.  Slowly, the images began to form in his mind.  He'd been trailing the group silently, peering as far into the distance as he could, tense and on the alert for orcs.  A few of the men were whispering quietly together, remarking on how much Gondor would flourish now that their king had returned.  As he'd listened and smiled to himself, he'd suddenly been taken off guard.  Something had grabbed him from behind and gagged him so that he couldn't call out for help.  Strong arms had held his own behind his back, binding them tightly, so that his binds soon bite into his fair flesh.  In all, he could remember thinking that there were maybe half a dozen figures there, all cloaked with hoods drawn well over their faces.  One in particular had been taller than the rest, and was obviously the leader.  Though the figure had spoken not a word, he or she had made a few quick hand gestures, and the others had followed the orders, just as silently as the commands had been given.

Legolas remembered little detail after that.  He'd been led in endless, overlapping trails, until he was actually confused as to where he was headed.  And they had traveled by night; the moonless night and a few heavily overcast ones had deprived him of all sense of direction.  He'd tried to escape once, but had been caught and blindfolded, and then a ceaseless round of punches and kicks had been dealt to him as his punishment.  He remembered nothing else.

Legolas opened his eyes again.  He supposed that he'd slipped into unconsciousness then, for his next memory was of waking up in the place he was now.  He looked around, giving his eyes time to focus and adjust to the dimness.  As far as he could tell, he was in a small rectangular room.  Three of the walls were made of smooth, sheer stone – one solid piece without a single joint or flaw that he could see.  The last remaining wall was partially made of stone, only interrupted towards the middle by a heavy steel barred door with a sturdy lock.  As for himself, he was chained to the wall on the right.  They were short, heavy chains, and were shackled to his ankles, wrists, and one about his neck.  He attempted to sit up, and the effort made every fiber of his body burn.  But still he tried, hating the fact that he was lying on a cold stone floor.  Finally, with a great effort, he was able to sit, leaning his back against the hard, smooth wall.  

He stayed, unmoving for a long time.  He wondered how long.  The cell he was locked in was windowless.  The only light in it came from a few high, narrow slits that had been hewn in the stone.  But even that was not enough for the elf to judge the time by.  He only knew that it was day, and he could smell moist earth; it was raining lightly.  For a while, Legolas allowed himself to fall into a state of meditation.  

But his peace of mind was short lived; all too soon he heard the light patter of footsteps coming from behind him.  He realized that there was a stone staircase that came behind the cell, but as the door to his prison stood to his left and front, he could not tell who was approaching.

He strained his ears, but whoever had come down did not speak.  The footsteps were lighter now.  Glancing towards the door, he was surprised to see the same cloaked figure from his capture – the leader of his assailants.    

"Who goes there?  Speak now," Legolas called out, and immediately regretted doing so.

The figure motioned to the guard.  The door swung open with a heavy sigh, and the figure walked into the cell.  Closer it came towards Legolas, and a powerful, slender hand came forth from under the folds of the fabric.  The door warden came from behind it's master, and handed him a heavy battle glove, slipping it onto the taller one's hand.  

Before he could protest, it slapped Legolas hard across the mouth, stunning him for the moment.  Blood began to trickle down from the corners of his mouth, ripped by the force of the blow.  The door warden produced a heavy cloth, and tied it tightly around the young elf's face, stuffing the material into his mouth, making a cruel gag.  The leader gave Legolas a swift punch in the gut.  Legolas bent forward some, and a muffled gasp came from his lips, but the gag caught the sound, making it almost inaudible.  

"That'll ensure that he doesn't try anything else," the leader said.  "Keep a close guard on him."

These were the last words that Legolas heard, now with the knowledge that the leader was male.  And in the back of his mind, the voice sounded familiar, but somehow warped and distorted, making it impossible for him to pinpoint where he'd heard the voice before.  With those thoughts in his head, he let himself slip back into unconsciousness.  


	2. The News Reachs Gondor

"Aragorn!  Aragorn!" came the voice of Gimli, echoing throughout the halls of the king's palace in Gondor as he ran down the spacious and newly renovated halls.

At last, he came to the throne room, where Aragorn and Arwen sat side by side, listening to the pleas of a poor young thief that had stolen a few vegetables from the royal garden.  Aragorn rose as Gimli rushed into the room and skidded a little on the smooth marble floor as he tried to stop himself.  The accused boy held out a hand and stopped Gimli from sliding into the steps that lead up to the thrones.  But Gimli did not acknowledge the help.

"What is it Gimli?" asked Aragorn, a little surprised and worried at his friend's behavior.

"I am sorry to interrupt, but I bear urgent news!  Legolas has been taken!"

"Taken, by whom?"

"I don't know.  He just disappeared three nights into our hunt.  Some of the men found elf blood not far from the place when we first noticed him missing."

Aragorn's face paled, but he soon regained his composure.  "Case dismissed for the time being.  For now, you are free to go within the city, but now to leave it.  I still would like to have a word with you," he said, addressing the boy.  "My guard Viguil will leave you out."  

He turned back to the dwarf now and motioned for him to follow him into his study.  Arwen came after them, worrying what might have happened to Mirkwood's prince.

Inside the study, Aragorn waited for the two to enter the room, and then locked the door behind them.  He sat down in a plush chair at the head of the meeting table.  Arwen sat to his right, Gimli to the left.  

"Tell me everything from the beginning," Aragorn said, once everyone had gotten settled.  "Were any others taken?"

Gimli shook his head.  "Just Legolas.  All of the others were left untouched.  It actually took us a few minutes before we realized that he was missing. By chance, we ran across some or Eomer's Riders, who told us that the orcs had passed into Rohan and had been killed under his command.  I had turned to Legolas to speak with him, but he was gone.  When we retraced our steps, we found a few traces of blood."

"You are sure that it was his?"

"Aye, it was his.  I checked it out myself."

"Were there any tracks to follow?"

Gimli shook his head again.  "Not much that we could see.  Even the blood seemed to have been limited to the one area."

"Where was this?  Can you bring me to the spot?  Perhaps my skills as a ranger can help uncover some news."

"I can take you there."

"Good, I'll send word to get us a horse ready, and ten other riders or my choosing.  It will take a bit, so I will have food brought to us while we prepare."  


	3. Confined

It was dark outside when Legolas next came to.  He was sitting, bound against the wall of his cell.  He was still gagged, but the pain in his body had subsided some, and he could move a little easier then he'd been able to before.  He tested the shackles that held him, but they were strong, and would not give.  On the chains, he systematically tested each link, searching for one that might prove weak.  But the chains too were strong, new and shining, untouched by rot or rust.  

_It makes sense_, he thought to himself.  _My capture was no accident.  Whoever did this had everything planned well, and knew where to look for me._

But just who the mysterious cloaked man was, Legolas could still not tell.  In vain, he ran the voice over and over in his mind, but if he had indeed known that voice before, it was too twisted and evil now to rightly remember the original sound of the voice.  

Instead, he turned his mind to thoughts of rescue, but his heart sank even lower than before.  Even if his absence had been discovered quickly, his captors had moved fast and had left behind a challenging trail.  And even then, the trail had passed into rocky terrain for the last part of the journey.  It could take weeks before he was found.  Legolas swallowed hard.  By then he might be dead.  And judging from the fact that he'd had no food or water since his capture, that option seemed frightfully possible.  He shivered a little at the thought.

A cool wind was blowing through the few slits in the wall that provided air and light into his cell, but he hardly noticed.  Fall would be turning into winter soon.  

All night he sat in his cell, never changing his position.  Occassionally, he would hum an old familiar tune from his childhood days.  It reminded him of a happier time – before he'd left Mirkwood, before he'd learnt that the One Ring had been found, before he'd watched some many innocents die in battle.  It was a time when the world had been safe and secure, and he'd spent his days roaming the forests of his lands with his elven friends, living almost carefree in a way, but yet always involved with helping his father with affairs in the kingdom.

A sudden slam of a door behind Legolas shook him from his thoughts.  As far as he could guess, the door at the top of the steps behind his cell had closed, and his captor was coming down the steps.  He could still make out the side of the door warden standing guard to the right of the cell door.

"Open it up," came the same chilling voice from before.

The metal door creaked open; the hinges were in want of oil.  The figure entered with two companions.

"Undo his confines."

The manacles about his wrists and neck were loosened and removed.  

"Take his tunic."

Roughly, Legolas was stripped of his tunic, and was left wondering what evil would befall him next.  His tunic was given over to the leader by one guard; the other held out a quill and sheet of parchment to Legolas, who was still bound by the ankles.

"Good," said the leader.  "Now then my young prince, take this quill and write down exactly what I tell you to.  Just my little way of insuring that your daddy believes that I do indeed, have you."

Legolas hesitated for a moment before taking the two items that the guard held outstretched to him.  He received a knee to the stomach for his hesitation.  When he could stand again, he took the quill and paper.

"Excellent. Now then, I want you to write the following, in elvish or the Common Tongue, which ever pleases you more.  You will write exactly what I tell you, no more, and no less.  If I see even a single stray mark that I did not authorize, you will be sorry.  Do you understand?"

Legolas said nothing, afraid to provoke the form before him.

"I said, do you understand?"  

The cloaked being kicked Legolas in the back of the knees and twisted his hand in the elf's blonde hair, yanking backwards until Legolas finally choked out an "I understand."

"Good, you're beginning to learn."

Quickly, Legolas was forced to transcribe a message to his father, stating that he was being held captive and that the best thing for him to do would be to meet all of the demands made in the ransom note that would be sent along with his own.  He signed his name to it, and the parchment was grabbed from his hands.  The door warden turned to give it to his master.  But as he received it in his hands, a sudden clanking of metal turned the attention of all three towards the door.  Another figure was carrying Legolas' weapons, and one of his daggers had fallen from its' sheath and fell clattering to the floor.

That's when Legolas saw an opportunity.  The keys were hanging on the guard's belt, and were just within reaching distance.  If he could act quickly, he could seize them, hide them in a boot, wait until the guards left, and make his escape.  He reached out towards the keys, but the leader turned around sharply, and realized at once the elf's intentions.  A strong grip grabbed his wrist.

"Fool!  What did you think you were doing?  Did you think you'd try and escape?"  A hideous laugh filled the chamber.  "Now we'll just have to teach you a lesson."  The leader nodded to the guard with the keys.  "Unchain his ankles and lead him to the Screaming Room.  You," he motioned to the other as Legolas was being released, "take his tunic and boots.  Bind them with his weapons and the notes.  Send them along to Thranduil as soon as you are finished."


	4. On The Trail

Aragorn and Gimli had ridden off with ten of Gondor's finest warriors as soon as it had been possible.  They had still had several good hours worth of sunlight, and by taking a few shortcuts that Aragorn knew of, they had managed to cover a good deal of the distance between the city and the place where Legolas had been taken.  They rode for most of the night, stopping only in brief halts to rest.  

All the while, Gimli had ridden with Aragorn, still disliking the idea of riding, but more than willing to deal with it now that his friend's life was in danger.  

Finally, as the first rays of dawn reached over the sky, they came to a point where shortcuts were no longer available to them.  They were halfway to where Gimli and the others had found traces of the elf's blood.

"We will rest here and eat before we continue on," Aragorn said, dismounting from his horse.  

He'd taken Arod, the horse that Legolas had ridden back in Rohan during the war, a gift from Eomer to Legolas.  Aragorn had taken him on the search in hopes that his strong bond with his master would prove useful if things got difficult.  The horse had heightened senses, and perhaps could find clues to Legolas' whereabouts even if the old Ranger's skills faltered.

The rest did not sit well with Gimli, who desperately wanted to press on, but it was at the same time not altogether unwelcome.  

"We should continue on.  Who knows what is happening to him?" Gimli muttered to Aragorn so that only the king would hear.

"I grudge the delay as well Gimli, but both my men and their horses are in need of rest.  They have not a dwarf's stamina."


	5. The Screaming Room

_Crack!_

The vicious cracking of a long leather whip cut through the dead silence of the room and landed, tearing across Legolas's back.

He was in the so-called Screaming Room, large domed room of solid rock and filled with various torture devices.  After his failed attempt to escape, he'd been roughly shoved along as the guards had escorted him to the torture chamber.  There he'd been shackled onto a wooden frame.  Then the rough hands of the hooded minions had ripped his leggings up to the middle of his thighs, exposing as much flesh as they could to increase the pain that he would suffer.  And his torture had begun.  Already, he'd been in there for half an hour, maybe longer.  

_Crack!_

How many lashes of the whip he had endured, he no longer knew.  But each lash found a new place to rip at his flawlessly smooth flesh, until he was raw and bleeding from a network of wounds that ran over his back in an interlacing series of slashes.  But throughout, Legolas had not cried out in pain, which greatly frustrated his assailants.  He merely set his jaw and closed his eyes, body tense throughout the entire ordeal.  Now the whip cracked with fury, leaving only seconds between them. 

_Crack!_  _Crack! Crack!_

Another stroke of the barbed metal tips of the whip landed upon him.  This one cut across the base of his neck, an area that had previously been left untouched.

Still, no sound escaped his lips.  They would not break his spirit that easily.

He tensed for the next blow, but none came.  Half fearing to, Legolas opened his eyes.  Still no stroke fell upon him.  Almost, he let out a sigh of relief, but held back and the last moment, thinking that if he showed anything but a detached emotionless state, the torture would continue.

"Enough," he heard the leader say.  "We need him alive…for now."


	6. Clues To An Elfknapping

Dawn broke cool and bright.  Thin wisps of clouds floated slowly in the sky and a brisk wind blew in the west.  But Aragorn and his group did not stop to admire the beautiful weather.  As soon as they had rested enough, the saddle bags had been repacked and the riders had set out on the trail once more.

Gimli, once again riding with Aragorn, pointed to a large gnarled looking tree off to the right.  "See that tree?  We're almost there Aragorn.  More than halfway by my reckoning."

Aragorn nodded, but said nothing.  He just spurred the horse on, hoping to collect what clues he could that could tell him anything of the elf's capture.

Onward they rode, heading almost due north to the sparsely wooded area where their friend had disappeared.  Hours passed.  No one spoke, not even in soft whispers.  Suddenly, Gimli cried out.  

"There!  There is where we were.  I saw his blood by that tall tree over there."  He pointed to the tallest of the handful of trees that grew together.

Aragorn slowed the horse once again, and led him carefully to the edge of the strand of trees.  There the king dismounted Arod, and left him to graze on the last green grasses of the fading fall.  With the dwarf by his side, Aragorn walked to the spot that had been pointed out to him.  There he found a few blades of grass and some fallen leaves that had been stained red with Legolas' blood.

He looked around for signs of a struggle.  A few heavy imprints in the grass told him that there had been one, but it had not lasted long.  Six pairs of prints he could make out clearly.  They were not those of men, but what they were of, he could not tell – only that whatever had made them had worn heavy boots and moved with short strides.  He peered closer to the ground.  Faintly, almost imperceptible even to the trained eyes of the former ranger, he saw another pair of prints.  And then he saw another.  One was certainly Legolas' and from the position, Aragorn knew that the elf had been surrounded.  The other pair stood amidst the others, but had not been part of Legolas being surrounded.  

As he moved along the ground, he came across another clue.  A single strand of rope lay crushed in one of the heavily made footprints.  Standing once more and holding the rope between his fingers, Aragorn looked over to Gimli.

"He was here all right.  He was dragged this way," he pointed as he spoke, "then surrounded and bound.  Then they took off this way."  He looked up, squinting at the sun.  It was just passing the noon mark.  "We'll follow the trail as far as we can before we rest again.  The men have had some time already, as have the horses."

He gave a call, and soon the riders came up to him, Arod with them.  Aragron and Gimli once again climbed onto the back of the beautiful white horse, and took off at as fast a pace as the old ranger dared to risk.  As for himself, Aragorn spent most of the time bent over, his eyes constantly searching the ground.  

This proved well for the group, as the trail twisted and turned, sometimes double backing upon itself, and even Aragorn sometimes had to stop and sit for a while before he could discern which way to head next.


	7. Food For Thought

The cold metal door slammed behind Legolas as he was roughly thrown into his cell and the chains were locked back onto his wrists, ankles, and neck.  He winced inwardly as he was shoved into the wall and his torn and bleeding body made contact with the hard stone.  Then his captors turned and left the cell.  He heard the click of the lock as the key was turned.  Footsteps retreated back up the stone staircase, and he was finally left alone.

From the few golden rays of light that came through the windows, Legolas could tell that the sun would soon be fading.  Night fell quickly inside, the few slits in the wall being too high to catch the very last of the sunlight, and soon all was dark and gloomy.  Legolas knew he should try and rest; his entire body screamed for it.  But for some reason, he was wide-awake mentally.  

He had been standing, but now he sat down, gritting his teeth as he eased his back against the wall, the chilly surface extinguishing some of the fire that seemed to tear across his back.  It became easier for him to think clearly, and he bent his thought here and there.

Firstly, he thought of the note that he'd been force to write to his father, and of his possessions that had been sent with it.

_No doubt it is to ensure that my father believes that they have me.  But I wonder what the ransom note demands.  Gold?  Jewels?  Nay, something tells me this is different…bigger.  They did say that they needed me alive for the time being. For the time being…does that mean they will kill me before the end?_

He thought hard about the note he'd been forced to write, but could gather no more clues to figure out what his captors were after.  

_Whatever they demanded, I hope my father will not give in to them.  I must find a way out of here.  But how?  If I but breathe wrong I will be brought back to the Screaming Room, I fear.  As much as I hate to admit it, I am stuck here, chained and beaten like a beast._   

He signed and leaned his head back, resting it against the wall.  Again he thought of rescue, but once again his heart sank.  Aragorn might have some of the best tracking skills that the elf had ever seen, but it would most likely take the former ranger a considerable amount of time before he came.  If only they had not passed into that rocky land of little soil and no grass!  But still, Aragorn had surprised Legolas in the past; perhaps there still was a chance of being found.

He was jarred from his thoughts at the sound of footsteps, heavy boots on the stone floor.  The door to his cell creaked open, and a cloaked figure placed a small platter before Legolas. On it was a small hunk of bread, a few days old, but not quite inedible yet.  Next to it was a small crock of thin gruel, the smell of which was highly unappetizing.  To top it all off was a mug of luke-warm water.

Legolas eyes all of this suspiciously, but the figure did not move.  Legolas did not touch the food.

"You will eat it or you will be punished.  We can't have you starving to death, now can we?"  By the sound of the voice, it was the leader of the group.

Hesitantly, Legolas reached out and took up the bread and sniffed it.  His keen elven senses told him that nothing was wrong with it, and he took a bite, the first food he'd eaten since he'd supped with Gimli and the men of Gonder before his abduction.  Until then, he'd barely noticed his hurt, fear and pain taking over.  But now he ate with a renewed sense of hunger, though the food was bitter and little to his liking.  He ate all that was offered, including the rather repulsive gruel and washed down the meal with the mug of water.

_We ate better during the war, _he thought wryly to himself, and he yearned for even the smallest morsel of elvish waybread.

Once he had finished his poor supper, the leader took up his tray and made for the door.  "I see that you are indeed learning my young prince.  See to it that you remember the lessons learnt this afternoon or you shall be re-schooled."      

The door shut behind the leader and he disappeared from sight.  Again, Legolas could not shake the sense that he knew the being underneath the robes from an earlier time.  A Man's voice it seemed, harsher and less eloquent than Aragorn, and certainly less so than his elven kin.  But elvish the figure seemed in movement.  He was light of step and keen of senses, yet unnaturally so, for Legolas guessed that the person's natural form was not an elvish one.  And he was as cruel and cunning as the Dark Lord had been, but on a lesser scale.  

_His plan is not so grand as to destroy Middle Earth,_ thought Legolas,_ but we may yet see a different side.  Orc-like he seems and yet not…small-scale thinking, yet not so petty as orcs tend to be.  Ah, but now I must rest while I may, for who knows what the coming of the dawn may bring.  Nothing maybe, but I fear more of the same treatment as I faced today._

With that, he slowly drifted off into an uneasy sleep. 


	8. Camping

Aragorn and company rode until the sun was low on the horizon.  Then he halted, and the company broke from the trail to camp for the night.

"We will rest here for the night," he told his men, "for I do not trust this trail in the dark.  Already it has twisted and turned back upon itself many times."

"Shall we allot times for a night-watch, my lord?" one of the men asked him.

"Yes, two on watch at a time, two hour shifts.  We do not know how close we may be to Legolas, and the closer we get, the more on guard we shall need to be."

"I will take the first watch," offered Gimli.  "I am sore from our ride, but not yet tired."

Aragorn smiled grimly.  "I will watch with you."

"But sire," argued Faramir, who had come from the back of the line of horses, "you have had a sore trial today, and shall need to be rested all you can for tomorrow's hunt.  I will cover both your shifts and my own if need be."

Aragorn rested his hand on Faramir's shoulder a moment and smiled.  "No Faramir, I will watch.  Legolas is like a brother to me.  Besides, you men have had no less toiling a ride.  I would not ask it of you to take any less rest than I."

"Then so be it," smiled Faramir.  "May tonight bring us peace however."

"Indeed."

But there was no need for a watch at the moment.  The men covered the ground with bedrolls for sleeping, others busied themselves building the campfire, or collecting kindling to last the night.  A few others prepared the food, dried meats, bread, cheese, vegetables and fruits.  Also given to each man sitting there, a piece of lembas bread to replenish them, baked by the Queen Arwen herself, and enough to last nearly two weeks.  A few skins of wine and water were brought out, but the conversation was scarce and even the campfire seemed cheerless.  All sat around the warming blaze of the campfire, trying to shut out the sudden chill that the wind bore.

The evening wore on.  The stars peeked out from tattered patches of cloud, and the moon gave out a weak light, half hidden in clouds itself.

One by one the men turned in for the night, climbing underneath the soft fur of their bedrolls.  The campsite grew even quieter then it had been before.  Only Aragorn and Gimli were left awake, removed a little from the others, and peering into the darkness around them.

"Do you really think we'll be attacked tonight?" Gimli asked.

"Not likely, though it is hard to judge how close we may be to Legolas' abductors."  They were the first words Aragorn had spoken since he'd talked with Faramir some two hours prior.  Mostly, he's sat in thought, staring out into the distance, and none had dared to approach him.

Gimli grunted.  "I do hope the elf is alright."

"So do I.  I just wish I knew what sort of beings took him."

Gimli looked sharply at the king.  "What do you mean?"

"The tracks are strange, very strange.  Like orcs they appear, but at the same time, closer to Urak-hai.  And the other prints are light, like an elf, but yet unlike an elf.  It is a strange puzzle."

"But one we shall find the answer to."

Aragorn looked towards the dwarf, and caught the gleam in his eye.  Gimli would travel all through the night if he could, and stop only when he could no longer stand.  Aragorn smiled to himself.  Such was the friendship that had been forged between the dwarf and the elf.

"Do not despair Gimli, we will find him." 


	9. Intentions Revealed and Punishment Dealt

The next day dawned bright and cold.  Legolas awoke to the sound of voices outside of his cell.  

"Was the message delivered?"    

"Yes, my lord.  Thranduil received the message last evening.  I shot one of the guards with an arrow – he was a tall elf, silver haired and from the looks of it, of high importance.  He was alone and I left the bundle there upon his breast.   From my hiding place, I saw the king come out from his home, speaking with several others, and together they stumbled across the body.  There Thranduil received your message, for I saw him read it, and stumble backwards as though wounded."

"Excellent work.  If he is smart, he will answer my demands immediately."

Legolas' mind was reeling.  The elf that the evil creature had slain was almost certainly Telos, a goodly elf, ever loyal to Thranduil, and who Legolas had been extremely close with, as the older elf had taken care of him the few times that his father was abroad during Legolas' youth.

"Yes my lord," responded the foul creature.  "The plan is well underway.  Thranduil set out from Mirkwood that very hour."

"Very good.  Thranduil knows that if he wants to see his son alive again, he will not hesitate to meet with me.  And when he comes…Mirkwood will be mine."

_So that is the answer to this riddle!_ Legolas thought._ It is the kingdom that they are after.  I am but a bargaining chip to them. _

But now he listened more intently, for the lesser minion was speaking again.

"…and when he comes, the boys and I will kill Thranduil and his son.  You will take over Mirkwood, and the Master's plan will be secured.  The other elven strongholds will fall, the elves enslaved, and then no other kingdom shall dare resist us, not even the mighty Gondor."

"FOOL!" roared the leader.  "Speak no more!"

Legolas heard a knife being drawn from its' sheath and the hard thud of a body hitting the floor.  Footsteps came towards the cell door.  Legolas panicked.  He shut his eyes and did not move.  With any luck, his captor would think him asleep or unconscious.  The lock clicked.  The door creaked open.  Footsteps came ever closer.

Legolas was kicked hard in the ribs.  His eyes flew open.

"Fool, did you think you could trick me?  I knew you were awake and know that you have heard every word that was spoken.  For you see, I have dealt with elves before, and know that they do not sleep with their eyes closed, nor was there any reason for you to be anything but conscious."

"I heard nothing," Legolas protested before he could stop himself.

"Ah, but you have I am afraid.  What shall we do about that?  Oh, I do not worry about you getting the message out to your father.  No, I fear rather that you shall do something rash when you are brought, bound and gagged, before him – that you might act on some ridiculous spark of heroism to try and save his life.  You see, I knew you well, my young prince.  You would gladly die in order that your friends and family live.  And I…I am going to prevent that from happening."  

"Your plan will fail," Legolas responded, a rush of anger and boldness rising strangely within him.

The figure before him laughed a little, seemingly amused.  "I think not.  Your father is already on his way.  And now, now I shall punish you for your insolence.  Guards!  Take the prisoner back to the Screaming Room, and see to it that no food or water is given to him.  The weaker he gets, the easier it will be to control him."

The guards came into the cell as soon as the command was given.  Once again, Legolas was released from his chains, only to be brought back into the Screaming Room.  As he passed through the prison room, he took note of the guard that lay dead upon the floor, a black pool of blood staining the floor.  The hood of the creature was thrown back, and Legolas could clearly see what lay beneath the somber robes of brown.

In build, it was quite like an urak-hai solider.  Cruel and muscular looking it seemed, much like the uraks that Legolas was used to seeing, but slender and agile looking as an orc would be.  And somehow, in the back of his mind, Legolas knew that this creature had been some sort of combination of the two, the creation of either the Dark Lord or of Saruman the White.  Which it had been in truth, he could not say.

But for the moment, he had other issues to deal with.  He was dragged into the Screaming Room, and strapped back into the apparatus from the day before.  The whip was brought out, and an endless succession of blows was rained down upon him, always seeking new and untouched flesh to bite into.  Back, legs, arms, and chest were all subjected to the metal tipped teeth of the long leather whip.  And when the black robed leader tired of the whip, he gave a word and a new device was brought out.  Barbed metal chains were taken down from hooks on the walls behind Legolas, and their bite was ten times as painful and damaging as the whip had been.

Yet through all of this, the elf never once cried out in pain.  He felt as if he were being shattered; his ribs were almost certainly cracked or broken, and it hurt even to breathe now.

Time drew on mercilessly slow.  An hour or two had passed since he'd been brought in.  A word of halt came from the leader, and the guards stopped their punishment of the elf prince.  He was released from his torture and was brought back to his cell, locked up again to the wall.  He was torn and bleeding, and could barely see straight from the pain.  Left alone in his cell, he lay down on the floor and quickly succumbed to the dark realm of unconsciousness.        


	10. A Father's Grief

A figure on horseback entered the kingdom of Gondor.  Through the streets it rode, the horse at a slowed gallop.  Past homes and storefronts it went, always working its' way towards the King's palace.  Upon reaching the front entrance to the palace, the cloaked figure dismounted and was immediately stopped by one of the guards that stood there on watch.  Words passed between the two, and the newcomer's horse was led away into the stables.  The figure was led into the palace, the guard going before him, another immediately replacing him in his absence.  

Once inside, the guard brought the newcomer to the Great Hall and announced his presence to Arwen, who sat upon her throne, speaking quietly with one of her attendants.

"My Lady, the Lord Thranduil of Mirkwood wishes to speak with you."

Arwen rose and came down from the dais that the thrones were placed on.  "Thank you Reglond.  You may return to your post."

"Very good My Lady."  He bowed and then turned on his heel and exited the hall, leaving the two alone.  

"Thranduil," Arwen cried out, and she hugged the elder elf in a quick, tight embrace.

"Arwen, it has been too long.  But now I fear the joy of our meeting is cut short.  I came to seek council and ask the help of your husband, but the guards tell me that he is abroad on some errand."

"Yes, that is true."

"An ill fate it seems."  

He opened the pack that he carried with him and placed the contents on a small marble table.  Arwen looked at all that was there.  Legolas' bow, quiver, knives, and long swords were placed neatly upon his folded tunic of deep green, the matching gauntlets to one side and his boots were underneath.  By the gauntlets she caught sight of folded pieces of parchment.  Thranduil caught her glance and explained.

"I found this pack laying with one of my guards upon the lands of my estate.  He was slain by an arrow.  These notes…someone has captured my son.  They demand that I meet them and surrender the rule of Mirkwood to them or else they will kill him.  I came here, to Gondor, in hopes that Aragorn, with his most excellent ranger skills, could find him.  I would gladly surrender myself to them to save Legolas, but for the great warning in my heart."

Arwen nodded her head.  "Aragorn left two days ago to find him."  

Quickly, she filled in the worried king, telling him all that Gimli had reported.  When her tale was completed, she called for an attendant and had them make ready a room for Thranduil.  Dismissing them, she turned back to the King of Mirkwood.  He was sitting in silence; his eyes seemingly focused on something far away and yet nothing at the same time.

Finally, he spoke once again.  "Two days ago.  That very night was when I received this ransom demand.  Perhaps it is best that I do meet with Legolas' captors."

"No," urged Arwen, "as with you, I sense great danger in this.  I fear that you will be walking into a trap, My Lord."

"What else can I do, Arwen?  I cannot abandon my son to torment and suffering.  They will kill him if I do not meet them."

"And likely they will kill him even then.  No, do not go to them.  Give Aragorn some time."

"By then he could be dead!"

She could see the inner struggle the other elf was having.  On the one hand, first and foremost, was his love for his son and the desire to save him if he could.  But on the other, both elves sensed the danger of the meeting, should it happen.

"Let me see the letters," Arwen asked, and Thranduil handed them to her.  She read them over several times.  "The ransom demand seems fair enough.  I do not see any suspicion in it, only the desire to obtain your kingdom.  But this letter," she pointed to the one Legolas had written, "seems too forced.  And that is where my suspicion lies.  Here his captor had proof enough that they had him," she motioned to his weapons and garments, "and yet this letter also strives to prove their claim.  Bring no others…face to face meeting…My Lord, I fear that you will only meet death if you go to them as demanded.  And mostly likely Legolas too.  Whoever this is wants Mirkwood; they will not kill its' king and leave it's prince to live."

Thranduil put and hand to his forehead and rubbed it in thought.  "You speak well in this matter, Arwen.  Perhaps you are right.  But what else should I do?"

"For now, we must trust that Aragorn and Gimli will find him quickly and bring him safely back to Gondor.  Here we must wait for their return."

"I cannot just sit around here waiting!"

Arwen put a comforting hand on Thranduil's shoulder.  "I know that this is difficult for you.  I feel no different, for Aragorn and I both love Legolas as family.  But we must trust that all will be well.  Legolas is strong, he will be alright."

"My son is in grave peril, I can feel it."

"Give Aragorn but three more days.  If he returns without your son, or if he still does not return at all, then do as you see fit.  That is all I will ask of you."

"Three days…how can I be sure that they will not have killed him be then?"

"My Lord, you are greatly grieved and are not yourself.  Think about it this way.  They will not kill him if there is a chance that you will come.  His life is their bargaining chip."

Thranduil looked up at her suddenly, for he had let his head drop, feeling defeated and useless in the fight to save his child.  But now there was a certain clarity to his gaze and he looked at her a moment before speaking.  He smiled a bit to her, his pained face still anguished, but softened towards her.

"Arwen, you are as wise and astute as your father Elrond, my friend of old.  Thank you, for all that you have done and said.  Grief clouds my judgment and my wisdom."

"Come now, rest awhile in the chamber that I have ordered prepared for you.  Tomorrow may bring new hope to us."        


	11. Watchers In The Night

"Now what shall we do?" grumbled Gimli the dwarf as he peered at where Aragorn knelt on the rocky ground.  "We've lost the trail."

It was mid day.  The sun was shining brightly overhead, warm enough to be comfortable, yet the chill of the coming winter could not be ignored.  The king had roused his men before dawn.  They'd eaten and then the camp was quickly disbanded, and as soon as it was light enough to see by, they had taken to the trail once more.    
  
A few times, the trail had been lost to them, but through Aragorn's experience and skill as a hunter and ranger, they had picked up the trail at other points, unknowingly saving them almost half a day's journey.  But then they had come to a place where his skill faltered.  It was the rocky terrain that had worried Legolas as he sat locked in his cell.  No footprint or any tell tale sign could be gathered here, for there was little soil; mostly there was just dull gray stone.

Aragorn stood up and wiped the dust from his knees.  "_Oft when a man's skill does fail, the sense of the beast does prevail.  Now we shall see if Arod can find what we cannot."_

He walked to the horse and Arod nuzzled him with his nose.  The horse seemed impatient, stomping at the ground, head ever turning this way and that.  Aragorn spoke softly to the horse in elvish, the only words that the men could decipher was the elf's name.  But the horse seemed to understand and he sniffed the air all about him as if gathering news.

"Hopefully the trail will not prove too old for him," the king said softly to Gimli and Faramir, who stood by his side.

But soon Arod whinnied, and Aragorn and Gimli mounted him once again.  The great white horse sprang away, galloping hard towards the place where Legolas was being held.  The rest of the men spurred their horses after them, but Arod's pace outmatched them, and they were soon trailing him by several horse lengths.  

Onward they sped, the landscape barely changing as it raced past them.  Dark and bleak was the land, featureless for the most part, with a few brazen stunted trees growing in the near distance.  Now Aragorn rode tall in the saddle once more; though his eyes roved over the land, now in the distance, now at the ground by Arod's hooves.   But still he could find no trail and left it instead for Arod.

The sun continued its' endless journey across the sky above.  The bright blue of the sky soon filled with colors.  Reds, oranges, and golds all brightened that dreary land, but the Gondorians did not notice.  Arod began to tire.  Sweat poured from his flesh and his gallop began to slow, unnoticeably at first, but soon he'd slowed to a fast trot.

"Lord Aragorn," Faramir cried out, his own midnight black stead finally able to catch up with Arod.  "We must stop and rest, if not for the night, then at the very least long enough for the horses to rest."

The king nodded.  "Yes, we must stop and rest, though I greatly grudge it.  See how Arod stamps!  We must be close indeed.  But come, let us all be refreshed and ready, for we know not what we shall find in the future.  Make ready a fire.  We shall sleep now and rise before the moon reaches its' height.  Then we must continue.  A threat has been growing in my mind all afternoon."

"Very good sire.  It shall be done."  With that, Faramir turned back to the men and began to give out assignments.

As cheerless as the previous night's camp had been, this night was even more so.  Guards were constantly on watch, and when it came time that all that were off-watch went to sleep, the fire was doused and only a thin wisp of smoke rose silently into the heavens.  

Aragorn and Gimli took the first watch again.  The dwarf was sore from the day's ride, and said as much to Aragorn, always making light of the situation, ever trying to cover his own fear.  But it was not so now.  Gimli sat on his bedroll, running his finger along the edge of his axe.  It felt a bit dull to him and Aragorn handed him a small whetstone to sharpen it with.  As quietly as was possible, the two sat there together for half an hour, with only the faint sounds of the stone against the axe blade between them.   

"If only we could keep moving," Aragorn finally spoke aloud, yet still half in thought to himself.

Gimli gazed at the man sitting beside him.  He was alert and restless, but he still suffered himself to sit watch will his men slept all around him.  Gimli smiled to himself.  Here, this man was king, and his men would do whatever was asked of them, but yet he was still so like the ranger he'd been when the Fellowship had set out from Rivendell.  Surely, it was Legolas, their own dear friend that had been taken captive, but Gimili suddenly realized something.  Aragorn would do the same whether it was Legolas or any other of his men.  It was simply who he was.  And Gimli loved him for his nature.  

He said nothing though, sensing that Aragorn was not all there in his thoughts.  The silence thickened, and Gimli felt uncomfortable somehow.  He strained his eyes against the darkness, but he could see nothing, though it felt as if he were being watched.  Finally, he could stand it no longer.

"Aragorn," he whispered, "do you feel what I feel?"

"Yes, we are being watched."

"But by whom?  And where?"

"I do not know."

The moon was shrouded in dense clouds, and in the distance, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed.  It began to rain softly.  The men awoke and began to shift camp to an overhanging wall of stone not more than a quarter of an hour south of them.  It was when they began to move that the feeling of watchfulness withdrew and then altogether vanished.

Here the men set up one more, a northerly breeze blowing the rain outwards from the overhang, leaving the new camp dry.  No fire was kindled, for now the wood was wet, and Aragorn feared that whoever had been watching them might return.  But fortunately, the rest of the night passed without incident and they rose once again in the dead of night to continue the search for Legolas. 


	12. Spirits Risen and Crushed

"My Lord!  My Lord!" A gruff voice yelled over the booming of the thunder, the power of which seemed to shake even the sturdy stone walls of the place where Legolas was being held.  

 "Yes?"

"It is the King of Gondor…he is coming this way!  He brings with him strong warrior-men.  He has followed our trail I fear."

"Do not worry, he cannot follow the last part of it, once we passed over the borders of Gondor."

"Ah, but that is what I have come to tell you.  He has already passed the borders, and he is still hot on our trail.  Greborg and I saw them with our own eyes.  He is close My Lord."

The leader fell silent for a few moments, most likely pondering how Aragorn could have followed their invisible path.  In his cell, Legolas listened to the conversation between master and servant.  

So Aragorn does come!  Then there is hope yet.  But now I fear what these creatures may do in their desperation.  No doubt Aragorn's coming troubles them even more than they let on.  But I wonder, how did he pick up on the trail, unless he yet has skills that I had not guessed before.  

Legolas had wafted between the world of wakefulness and the realm of unconscious from the time he'd been brought back into his cell.  He'd felt each of his ribs; most were cracked and the rest were broken.  Every breath he took brought fresh pain like he'd never experienced before.  He felt weak; a combination of blood loss, repetitive abuse, and hunger.  But still, his spirit leapt at the news that Aragorn was close at hand.  Normally, he'd be ashamed of needing assistance to get out of a situation, but now he knew that he'd not survive on his own.    

"How many are there?" the leader spoke once again.

"There are eleven men including the King, and one quite smaller, a dwarf by my reckoning."

_Dear Gimli!  _Legolas's mind screamed, and his heart leapt even higher knowing that his two best friends were on their way.  _Alas, an elf needs a dwarf to save him!  _He smiled to himself wryly.  _No doubt my friend shall joke on it later, or so I hope, for I love him as my own kin.  _

"All are strong and able men," the lesser being continued.  "We are but six…and that includes yourself.  We cannot hope to defend this place against them.  What shall we do?  Command us and we shall do what you ask."

Here the leader whispered quietly to his minion, and not even the ears of Legolas could hear what command was passed along, but he was still filled with dread.  Another beating it would mean perhaps, but that was not what the elf feared.  Aragorn was close; the foul creatures would be trapped.  And Legolas was expendable.

Not more than a few minutes had passed, when the door to his cell swung open, the hinges groaning.  Two guards entered the room and hung back as their Lord passed between them.  He approached Legolas, his footsteps heavier than they had been up until this point.  In his right hand, he held a sword.

It was thin, rapier-like; long and tapered to a sharp fine point.  The handle which the cloaked being clutched was of silver and had a simple, unadorned look to it.  About the hilt, a few blood red gems flashed in the torchlight that came from the guard to the figure's left side.  The other guard hung back still, watching and waiting.

Legolas was backed all the way against the wall.  His torn back protested, but he ignored the pain.  The sword still hung limply in the figure's hand.  As he came closer, the elf could see the black tipped point of it, but what it was on the end, he did not know.  Still his captor advanced, each measured footstep weighing more heavily on Legolas' heart, until all the hope he'd had just a few minutes prior had vanished from all thought and memory. 

The figure before him made a movement with his hand.  The second guard came forward, and the other placed the torch in a metal bracket on the wall to the left.  Legolas was hauled to his feet.

_So this is how it all ends.  Death upon the sword of some foul evil, locked away and unable to fight.  No warrior's death will I have, neither bow nor sword shall I grasp in honor in my death.  Now I shall be found, bound and skewered like an animal_, he thought grimly.

But he still held his fair but bruised head proudly upwards.  He would not meet death as a coward.  His eyes remained fixed on his captor.  Had he been able to see the face that lay hidden under the heavy folds of the robes, he would have fixed his gaze straight into the other's eyes.

The sword was raised.  Legolas knew this only by the flash of fiery light that played off of it.  Higher still it was brought.  Now the point was against the naked flesh of his chest.  The tip was brought to the soft skin right under his neck.  Here it pierced him.  Quick as a flash, the sword was brought in a zigzag pattern across him, never going too deep, but deep enough to cause much blood to rush from the wound in the blade's wake. 

Legolas clenched his jaw, effectively stopping the cries that ached to erupt from him.  And yet he was confused, for the figure lowered the sword once again.  Here he had expected to sword to slice through his vital organs – his heart or his guts, or perhaps the slicing of his throat.  But now instead he stood there in the flickering light, blood covering almost his entire chest, and a few drops dripped unnoticed from the tip of the sword.

"My Lord?" asked one of the servants, not understanding the situation anymore than Legolas.

"We cannot put this miserable creature out of his pain yet.  No, Thranduil has failed to come.  The King of Gondor rides hither.  But they must live with the knowledge that the elf suffered every moment of his final hours in this world."

Suddenly Legolas understood and a burning sensation came over his newest wound.  The sword had been tipped with poison, and in his weakened state, he very much doubted that his body would be able to handle it.  It would kill him, a more miserable fate than he'd ever imagined for himself, and silently, he all but wished that he'd been run clean through by his captor instead.

 __


	13. The Enemy Stronghold Is Found

Throughout the rest of the night and into the morning hours, through the high winds and the torrential rains, Arod led Aragorn and his men towards Legolas.  The night was a dark one, the only light coming from the lightning that flashed ceaselessly above.  But that mattered not to the grim, determined band, for Arod needed no light to find the trail by.  And so they had forged on, stopping midmorning to rest, but their break was a short one.  As soon as the horses were refreshed enough, the men took the reigns up once again, following the white Rohirrim horse.

As before, the trail looped and circled this way and that, but that grew to be less and further between, and then path became all at once straight, as the elf's abductors had been confident that by now the trail would have been lost.  But now and again in the earlier part of the morning, Arod faltered at times, whipping his tail.  Often the delay was not long, but Aragorn knew that the trail was growing old, even for Arod's heightened senses.  He was relieved when for two full hours, the trail led them straight on.  Mountains were in the distance and the horse seemed to be making straight for them.

Now, towards the evening of the second day that they'd been in this dreary land, they reached the foot of the mountains.  There were many cave openings and Aragorn dismounted.  The rest of his men followed and he let fall Arod's reigns, leaving the horse free to move about at will.  Here the horse surveyed the openings, sniffing this way and that.  But the trail failed here and he stomped at the ground, confused.  But Aragorn patted his head and spoke reassuring words to him in elvish.  

Gimli was impatient, and would have checked every one of the some two or three dozen caves, had Aragorn not stopped him.  Next to him, Faramir was just as anxious to begin the search.

"Lord Aragorn," he protested after standing as still and silent as he could.

But Aragorn did not turn his gaze to Gondor's Steward and instead looked unseeingly at the mountainside, lost in thought perhaps.  After a few moments, he began to search the ground, all to no avail.  For here still the ground was stony and he could gather no information on which cave it was that his friend had been taken into.  He sighed.

"Sire, let us split up and search for Legolas," pleaded Faramir.  

"No, we must not waste precious time.  Not should our small strength be broken, though each man here is mighty in arms.  We do not know how many of the enemy we shall find."

"What then shall we do?" asked Gimli.

"We must look for a sign."

As if in response to his wishes, Arod suddenly neighed and tossed his head.  He walked towards the last cave mouth to the right and stood by it, for the opening was narrow.  Now the men moved forwards again, weapons drawn, ready to meet the enemy head on.  Aragorn took to the front of them, Gimli behind his friend and Faramir taking to the rear.  

Into the cave they went, their eyes having to adjust to the inky blackness around them.  The stone walls were terribly close at first, but soon they opened up into a larger space.  Faramir lit a torch, as did all save Gimli, and they saw that they were in the main hall of what might have once been a dwarven stronghold.  But of what time and history the place was from, not even Gimli knew, for it was a forgotten place, and the long years of uselessness had weighed heavy upon it.

Pillars stood broken here and there, the toppled remnants littering the floor.  It appeared that orcs had used it at one time, for foul writing graffitied the walls, but even that was old and the inks they'd used were beginning to wear away.  Arched doorways stood here and there.  Once the hinges had held mighty doors of wood and metal, but now all the wood had rotted away, and the metal cast to one side.  The great door hinges stood naked and the darkness beyond them was the only door they had known for countless years.  

"Stay close together," Aragorn cautioned his men as they began to search for other signs.  

The ground was rock, but here and there the layers of caked dust held endless overlapping trails of footprints.  It would be no use in trying to follow them.  They began to search each of the rooms that lay beyond the great doorways.  Half of the group took to the left, the rest to the right.  Each side would call the other if anything was found.

The group on the left, headed by Faramir, began their search.  Beyond the first door was a store room; the brittle bones of long decayed meat lay in one corner.  Hooks and shelves covered the walls.  There was no other doorway.  In the next room, was a bunker of sorts, for cots lined the room, each on bunked three or four layers high. 

To the right side, Aragorn's group found a great armory.  Weapons of badly tarnished metal stood solemnly in place, awaiting the hands of warriors that were never to return.  After that was a dining hall; for long rows of stone tables stood there, but there were no seats, and Gimli knew that they would have been of wood.  

And so the search continued.  A dozen rooms they checked all together until at last they found signs of recent life.  Sacks of unidentifiable food were stored in a room that Aragorn looked into.  But there also was food meant for a man, elf, or dwarf.  Salted meats, dry fruit, and wine were among the stash.

Faramir found a different room, and this too proved to the men that hope remained.  For the passage they took led to an adjacent cave, and here there were several horses stabled.  Fresh hay was laid out for them and water too, but only other doorway led out of the cave.

The men filed back into the main room, and the search began anew.  But now Aragorn cried aloud to his men, for beyond the center doorway was a narrow hallway, and beyond that, a twisting stone staircase that led downwards to a lower level. 


	14. A Grim Situation And A Menace Uncloaked

The Gondorians each held his own weapons ready.  Some had bows and to these, arrows were notched and ready to be drawn; others held bright swords in their hands.  Gimli gripped his axe and Aragorn held Andruil, the Sword That Was Broken.  Silently, they slipped down the stairs, torches extinguished, for here, the brackets upon the walls held ones already lit, and that provided them all the light they needed to see by.

Down, down, down they went and at the bottom, Aragorn halted them.  Noise could be heard, the shuffling of booted feet on the flat stone ground.  A chill air was about them.  Now voices could be heard.

"They are coming My Lord!  We must flee this place."

"Pack and make ready for departure."

"And the elf?"

"Leave him, it is not worth it to take him along.  He can no longer serve our purpose."

Aragorn's grip on his sword tightened.  He heard the slamming of doors in the distance, the echoes of which bounced off the bare walls.  The sounds grew fainter now, until all remnants of them had passed away.  That was when Aragorn stepped out from the shadows and entered the wide center room.  It was bare, save for a small table and a set of chairs.  Near it, a black stain covered a small portion of the floor.  

A solitary guard stood watch against the right hand side of the room.  He was robed and hooded, and did not right away sense the intruders.  But Aragorn rushed at him, a cry erupting from his throat.  The guard drew a long sword from a sheath at his side.  Metal met metal with a harsh clang.  Together they strove, each one dogging the other's blows and having their own efforts parried.  The men wondered at their King, for though they had all seen him fight the battle of the Pelennor Fields, or ridden with him to Morder to meet the Dark Lord head on, the fury at which he now struck was something that they had not yet seen.  For this was not a man fighting in an almost hopeless cause.  This was the wrath of a King against whom a grievous personal injury had been wrought.

At last, Aragorn feigned a blow and quickly pulled out of the maneuver to strike a killing blow.  Andruil sunk deep into the creature and its' black blood spilled over the ground.  He paused to pull the hood off and there he beheld a creature much akin to that which Legolas had seen laying dead on the floor a few days earlier.  He set Andruil back into its' sheath.

Now he pulled the keys from the creature's belt, but the room was dark and he almost passed by Legolas' cell door.  Fortunately, his wrath did not overshadow his wisdom, and he had the men check the perimeter of the room, after having them relight their torches from the ones in the stairwell. 

To his front, a handful of men found the Screaming Room, and from it, they produced several devices that had the elf's dried blood on them.  Gimli's heart was enraged, but Aragorn made no sign.  A far off shriek was heard; more of the enemy was at hand.  

Now Aragorn was before Legolas' cell, and he bid his men to search the rest of the rooms, with the strict instructions to bring what prisoners they could to him.  The men rushed off, leaving Aragorn and Gimli in the main room, and the king unlocked the cell door.

"Faramir," he called out, before the man vanished through a dark doorway.  "Stay here with us.  Get me a torch from the hallway."

He was peering into the cell and could just barely discern a slumped object lying at the far end on the floor.  Faramir bowed and went to the stairs, taking a brightly lit torch from its holder.  Coming up next to his king, the three entered the cell, and a fear stole over their hearts at what they might find.  Closer they came, but the shape never moved.

Now the light of the fire cut the darkness around Legolas and all three could see his unmoving form.  Gimli's heart caught in his throat; Faramir stifled a horrified gasp.  The elf was lying facing the wall, partially on his back, partially on his side.  Blood was on the floor and wall.  Coming closer, they could see the mass of dirt and dried blood that he was covered in.  His eyes were closed.  His breathing was so shallow that they could not even see the rise and fall of his chest.  

Aragorn bent down, kneeling on the floor, and gently unlocked the shackles that had bound his friend to the wall.  They had been tight and had bitten deep into his flesh, leaving ugly looking wounds behind.  Aragorn tossed them to the side.

"Is he…" Gimli barely ventured the question and could not bring himself to finish his statement.  

Aragorn took the fragile body into his arms.  He checked for signs of life.  

"No, he is still alive, but barely."

Now Aragorn looked at the sword wound on Legolas' chest.  It was covered in a greenish black dried puss, and it stuck up above his skin by a few centimeters.  Aragorn inspected it closely. 

"He's been poisoned," he said grimly, and yet his voice nearly broke.

Gimli's heart sank.  "Surely you can do something for him?"

"For this poison, I am afraid there is not much that can be done.  Not by me.  Would that Gandalf were here!  He might be able to do something for him, for this wound only a wizard can help, of any can.  It surpasses even the skills of the elves."  

He looked again at the broken body that lay silent and still in his arms.  Legolas' hands were covered in blood as well, for the poison had wrought him with racking coughs while he'd still been conscious.  He'd been coughing up his own blood.  Gently, Aragorn laid Legolas back down, and once again looked at his wounds.  Now he discovered his broken and cracked ribs.

"What did they do to you?" he whispered to his unconscious friend.  "I swear to you, you shall be avenged."  Turning Faramir and Gimli, he spoke once again.  "We must get him out of here and back to Gondor with all speed.  I will take him with me on Aord, and you two shall ride together."

He made ready to lift Legolas into his arms again to take him from that dreadful cell of stone.  But Harrasim, one of his men, came rushing back, calling for the king.  Aragorn called back and the man came into the cell.  

  
"My Lord, we have slain all the enemy, save for one that seems to be the leader.  The rest fought our warriors and so they were felled in battle.  None of us were hurt, but the leader we were able to surround and take as a group, and he dared not resist us."

"Very good.  Where is this leader?"  
  


"Right outside the cell, sire, with the rest of the men."

"Bring him to me, for I greatly desire to see what sort of being has done such a thing."

They heard the grumbling of the figure as he was escorted into the cell.

"I'm gonna kill him!" Gimli roared, but Aragorn held out a hand to hold him back.

His men stood closely around the cloaked form, cutting off all chance of escape.  His hands and feet had been bound with strong chains.

"Remove his hood and let me look upon his face."

Harrasim drew back the hood and Aragorn, Gimli, and Faramir gave a collective gasp.  All at once they exclaimed as with one voice, "Boromir!?"


	15. First Tenderness

"Jerick, you and Resido go and get the horses in the next cave ready for departure.  Harrasim, get our own horses ready.  Make sure that Boromir does not try to escape," Aragorn gave instructions to his men.

"Yes sire."

"Faramir?" he asked, but the Steward of Gondor did not turn to him.  He was staring after his brother, grief and wonder taking over.  "Come now, Faramir," Aragorn said softly, putting a comforting hand on the man's shoulder.  "Let us leave this place."

Faramir could only nod.  Aragorn lifted Legolas into his arms and led the way out of the cell, coming just behind Boromir's escort.  Back up the steps and into the main room they went.  Here, Aragorn had one of the men take as large a cooking pot as they could find and easily transport.  Back out through the narrow passage they went.  The horses looked ready enough to travel, stamping at the ground and neighing softly.

Night had come whilst they were inside, but the moon was bright and low on the horizon, it still being quite early, and many stars were out.  The men mounted, the other horses tied behind or alongside their own.  On one of these, a great brown stallion, Boromir was sitting, with all of the men around him, save Faramir and Gimli's horse and Aragorn with Legolas upon Arod.  These two horses ran separate, Aragorn before the group and Faramir behind as a safety precaution.

For quite a few hours, they raced back to Gondor.  By Aragorn's reckoning, if they traveled in a straight line for most of the way in a southeastern direction, they would be back in Gondor by the following night.  But that meant that they'd have to camp for the night, for the horses would not last that long without a break, nor would his men.  

Aragorn sighed and looked at the figure before him.  Legolas was leaning limply into him, his head resting against Aragorn's chest.  His dirty, tangled hair flapped slightly in the wind.  Aragorn used a free hand to wrap his cloak around the elf, to cut the chill of the wind.

Onward they rode, past the previous night's camp.  Straight as an arrow was their course and before the moon had reached it's height, they had passed the border and back into Gondor.  Here Aragorn felt his heart lifted a little, for he was back in his own country and Legolas' cell lay far behind.  But still he led his men on, until the midnight hour was nearly spent.  Then he sensed the horse's fatigue, and knew that his men had to be exhausted.  He halted them and gave the word that camp should be made.

"I want half of us on at all times to guard over Boromir.  Two hour shifts.  It will be an unpleasant night, but it should be the only one that we should need to experience.  Tomorrow night we should be back in the city," he said, dismounting Arod.  "Faramir, I will release you from your duties tonight under the circumstances surrounding it."

"Thank you."  He bowed and turned to tether his horse to a low tree branch.

This night's camp was in a wide glen in the midst of a thick strand of trees.  A brook ran through it, not far from the campsite.  Aragorn ordered one of his men to fill the pot they had taken from the dwarven stronghold and set it to boil over a separate fire.  The rest of the men busied themselves with preparing the food and getting their bedrolls unpacked, as well as building the main campfire.

Aragorn took Legolas down from Arod's back and set him down upon the bedroll that Gimli had spread out for him.  Gently, he covered his friend with the soft deer fur, for the elf felt cold to the touch as his body struggled with the poison that was rushing through his veins.  Aragorn took a little food and drink as he waited for the water to come to a boil.  Gimli sat with him, the both of them detached from the rest of the group and near to Legolas.  Together they sat in silence.

When the water finally boiled, he crushed some athelas leaves and let them steep in the water.  Old habits died hard with the former ranger and he was forever found with a little of the plant on him.  Now they let off a scent like a clean, warm summer breeze, and the hearts of all the men in the camp were lightened.  The water cooled some.  Aragorn uncovered his friend and washed the dried blood and dirt from his body.  Some of the wounds bled anew at the touch, especially those on his back, and these Aragorn tended to as best he could, binding some of the worst ones with what he could.  

Underneath the layer of blood and dirt, the elf's body was covered in ugly purple bruises.  Here and there, an older, hidden wound was to be found.  Aragorn cleansed and tended to these also, all the while, his heart growing heavier in dismay.  Now and again he threw a glance over his shoulder at where his men stood guard over Boromir, but he dared not leave Legolas to question him, nor did he want the man anywhere near the elf.  Gimli instead went over, though the man was silent and would not suffer to answer any questions.  Faramir was usually off to one side, alone with his own thoughts, and the men respected his need to be alone.  No one approached him.

Now Aragorn washed Legolas' face and hair, getting rid of the tangles and finding the occasional scratch near his hairline.  His task accomplished, he discarded the water from the bowl that he'd been dipping the rag into.  He reached into his bag and took out a wafer of lembas and his water skin.  Behind him, the shift was changing.

"Aragorn, you need to take some sleep.  I will watch over him," Gimli said, coming up alongside of the king.

Aragorn smiled.  "I will rest, but first I will make sure that all of his wounds are cared for."  He crumbled an end of the lembas and fed it to the still form before him.  He continued this until the wafer was gone.  Then he lifted the water skin to Legolas' lips and helped him to drink.  "There is a virtue to lembas," he said to Gimli, "and I hope that it will be enough to help him until we get back to Gondor."

"Aragorn," Gimli said haltingly, "what do you think…I mean Boromir…how?"

Aragorn shook his head as he continued to tend to Legolas.  "I don't know," he said, leaning back a little.  "Gandalf might know, but he is away north.  Boromir would not answer your questions?"

"No, not at all."

Aragorn nodded thoughtfully.  "Well, we mustn't concern ourselves wholly with him just yet.  There will be plently of time in Gondor for that.  There are other concerns that take precedence."

"Aye," replied the dwarf, looking at the battered and frail figure before them.  "But you must sleep first.  You've done all you can for him."

"You might be right, Gimli.  For the first time throughout our hunt, I feel the exhaustion that our journey has rendered.  My men…I have driven them quite hard I guess."  There was pity in his voice for the Gondorians.  

But Gimli shook his head.  "No Aragorn, you have done the only thing you could do.  And that has proven well for us.  At least now, there is a chance to save him.  Get some sleep.  I will watch over him for a while."

The king smiled.  "Alright Gimli, but wake me at the next shift change, for you need sleep as well, and I do want to keep an eye on him at all times."

To this the dwarf agreed and Aragorn cast himself upon the ground and slept.  It was a rather unkingly sight, for he was too large to borrow Gimli's bedroll, and he did not feel the need to borrow one from an on-duty guard.  Now he lay with his cloak under his head for a pillow and slept upon the dying grasses. 


	16. Thoughts In The Night

Gimli kept vigilance while Aragorn rested, letting the man sleep until the second shift change since he'd gone to sleep.  The dwarf did not mind letting Aragorn have the extra rest, for he'd noted as he often awoke during the nights spent on the trail, that the man had slept little.  But now he too could hardly keep his eyes open, and he roused the king.

"Aragorn," he whispered, shaking him lightly.  

Aragorn's eyes flew open and he glanced at the moon.  "You have let me sleep long," he said, a knowing smile on his face.

"Aye, but now it's all I can do to keep awake.  Legolas' state has not seemed to have changed."

"Thank you."

"Wake me at the next shift change."

Aragorn nodded.  Gimli turned and crawled into his bedroll.  Soon the sound of his raspy snores could be heard throughout the camp.  Aragorn turned his attention back to the elf.

Indeed, Legolas' condition seemed to be much the same as it had been when he'd gone to sleep.  Still his eyes were closed.  Aragorn passed a hand over the elf's face and forehead.  Legolas was still cold to the touch; his body temperature had dropped a bit since he'd last checked.  Aragorn leaned back against a tree that was just off to Legolas' left side, for now he had time to ponder the questions that had been plaguing his mind.  

When he'd first set off on the trail and had seen the footprints, there had been two that resembled that of elves.  One had been Legolas' and the other…well, he guessed that would have been Boromir, since the man had obviously been the commander of the orc/urak-hai half breeds.  But Boromir was a man of Gondor and it did not make sense to Aragorn that his footprints would be like that of the elves.  And just how was Boromir alive?  Aragorn had been with him as he died and had sent him over the falls of Rauros.  And yet, there he was, alive and responsible for Legolas' current state.  This puzzled him the most and despite what explanation he could think of, none seemed to make very much sense.  Instead, he turned his thoughts to Legolas.

"Just what did he want with you?  And what did he do to you?" he whispered aloud, speaking to the silent form before him.  "I swear to you, I will do whatever it takes to get you well, my friend."

With these thoughts in his head, he passed the night quietly under the tree limbs.

Now the first rays of the dawn light crept up into the skies and Aragorn roused his men.  They were to make for Gondor, stopping only when most necessary, for Legolas had recently taken a turn for the worst.  He was riddled with shakes, though he remained unconscious.  He was in a cold sweat but Aragorn had nothing to treat him with out in the wild, though in his heart, he knew that there was not much that he personally could do for his friend, save to make him comfortable and to be with him so he would not die alone.    


	17. Final Leg Of The Journey

It was nearing noon when they had to make their first stop.  Boromir had made a desperate attempt to escape, trying to spur his horse into a gallop away from the group, but his guards foresaw his intentions and put a stop to it.  But now Arod had gotten a rock lodged in his horseshoe and Aragorn halted the journey to care for the horse.  Here the men took the opportunity to eat a little and give the horses a rest.  

As for Aragorn, he tended to the horse and then turned his attentions back to Legolas.  He was still racked with shakes and Aragorn rewrapped him in his bedroll.  He fed another wafer of lembas to him and once again helped him to drink.  But Legolas was still unresponsive, lost to his troubled and painful sleep, for Aragorn could see the elf scrunch his brow in pain every now and again.

Gimli, however, sat away from the group with Faramir.  "Are you alright lad?" he asked, but Faramir said nothing.  "It's alright to be upset, or angry, or confused.  Come now, you can talk with me."

"It would have been better had he remained dead," Faramir spoke at last, the first words he'd uttered since the day before.  "My brother and I had our differences, but he was always a good soul.  Misdirected sometimes, but he would never purposely cause pain and suffering to innocents.  But now…I don't understand it, Gimli."

Gimli said nothing, for he could see that Faramir was gathering his thoughts.  

After a moment, Faramir continued.  "How is it that he is alive?  Whether or not my vision of him floating in a boat on the river was true, I believe it when Aragorn says that he was slain in battle.  And why would he commit such atrocities?  It would have been better if he had stayed dead," he finally repeated.

"It will be alright," Gimli reassured the man.  

"Will it?" Faramir asked, but not to Gimli.  It was more of a general question, not directed to anyone in particular.

"You are right you know.  He is not the Boromir he once was.  There is more to this than we can yet tell.  But Aragorn will get to the bottom of it," the dwarf offered.    

"Gimli!" Aragorn called from where he stood preparing to continue the journey back to Gondor.  "Get the men up.  We must continue.  Harrasim, I need to speak with you."

Gimli stood up and got the others.  Faramir repacked the saddle bag for their horse.  Harrasim went to the king. 

"I need you to ride as swiftly as you can back to the palace.  Tell Arwen that I am coming and to make sure that a room is ready for Legolas.  If she asks you what is wrong, tell her that he is badly wounded and will need immediate caring for.  Then I want you to go to Stamlin and let him know that there will be the need for a cell made ready in the jail.  I am asking you because you have the swiftest horse after Arod and because I cannot risk to great a speed with Legolas in his condition."

"I will do as you ask sire," Harrasim replied, and with a bow, he mounted his midnight black stallion and rode off at top speed.

It took a little longer before the rest of the men were ready to ride, but soon all were on horseback and had once again started on their journey.  Faramir had felt a little less heavy-hearted after speaking with Gimli, but that did not soothe the aching of his heart, nor did it stop his mind from wondering what had caused Boromir to be so evil natured.

Now Aragorn led them swiftly over the land.  The sun moved ever towards the west.  Afternoon fell and soon the world was bathed in the golden light of sunset.  Still Aragorn led his men on.  Gondor was drawing closer.  They had not seen Harrasim at all since he had departed from the group.  Aragorn had no way of knowing, but he had already passed the gates of the City before the sun had set, and had delievered all messages that he had been given.

Back in the palace, the news of Aragorn's coming did little to ease the minds of Arwen and Thranduil.  All it did was to stop the elf king from going out himself to find his son.  Now, all he knew was that his son was alive, but badly injured and he paced the hallways in torturous anxiety.   


	18. The Return To Gondor

It was early in the night when Aragorn and his men finally passed into the City.  As the passed silently through the streets, they were all aware of the stares coming from the windows of houses, though none of them even bothered to look anywhere but straight ahead.  To the palace they rode and at the front gate they parted ways.  Faramir and the rest of the men led Boromir away to the jail while Aragorn and Gimli took Legolas inside.  Through the halls, Aragorn carried the elf, speaking to no one, but heading steadily to the Main Hall, where he knew he would find Arwen.  What he found was Arwen comforting Thranduil, and as soon as they heard the king enter the room, they turned to him.  

Thranduil's face paled as he saw his son laying limply in Aragorn's arms.  Arwen gasped in shock, for though Harrasim had warned them that the elf was injured, they had never imagined what the extent of his injuries would be.

"Legolas!" cried Thranduil as he rushed to his son.  Lovingly, he caressed his child's cheek and looked at Aragorn pleadingly.

"We must get him into a bed.  Is the room prepared?" Aragorn asked.

"Yes, Harrasim warned us before the sun had set.  Come with me," Arwen said as she led her husband to the room.

It was a cheerful room under ordinary circumstances.  Spacious and light in color, a few potted plants gave it an outdoors feel.  The large window faced the east, but now the shutters were closed to keep out the chill of the night.  Dark blue warm blankets were upon the bed.

Here, Aragorn gently lowered Legolas and laid him upon the bed.  Arwen drew the blankets over him, as he continued to shake in his troubled dreams.  A servant took Aragorn's dirty and slightly bloodied bedroll away, but not before the king asked for warm water and some athelas plant.  When this had been brought to him, he once again cleansed the elf's wounds, though in his heart, he wondered what go it could possibly do for Legolas.  How he wished Gandalf were there!  But the wizard was away in the north with the hobbits.

"Aragorn," said Thranduil late into the night as the two kept vigil.  He had not spoken before, his mind reeling and a sense of dread weighing far too heavily upon his heart.  "I want to thank you for all that you have done for Legolas.  But you must tell me…what happened to him?"

Aragorn sighed and studied the elder elf with pitied eyes.  "I will tell you all that I know, though there are some riddles I have yet to find the answers to."  

In a hushed and pained voice, Aragorn recounted all of the events from the time Gimli had rushed into the Main Hall until their return to Gondor.  At the end of the tale, Thranduil looked stricken.  Aragorn fell silent and turned back to Legolas.  His friend was steadily getting worse.  Again his body temperature had dropped.  If it fell much lower, the elf's organs would begin to shut down, one by one and there would be nothing that the others could do for him.


	19. A Glimmer Of Hope?

In the cold grey hours before dawn, a hooded figure rode through the streets of Gondor with astonishing speed.  Reaching the main gate of the palace, the guards let the man inside without question, for he was greatly revered.  One guard did go in before the newcomer, only so that he could be properly announced to King Aragorn.

Aragorn was inside Legolas' room.  He was in a chair by the foot of the elf's bed and Thranduil was near his son's head.  The elven king was awake and lost to his thoughts.  Aragorn was in a light sleep, the travel weariness finally catching up with him.  Outside the door, Gimli stood guard, whilst Arwen sat nearby, conversing with him in light whispers.

Wegrit, the guard from the palace gate, led the hooded figure down the hallways until he reached Legolas' room.  Gimli bowed low in dwarf-fashion when his eyes caught sight of the newcomer.  

"Gandalf!" he cried in wonder and renewed hope.

Gandalf the White smiled at the dwarf.  "Gimli, Arwen, " he said, but immediately followed this with a question.  "Is Aragorn inside?"

"Aye, he's inside."

"I must see him immediately."  
  


"I will get him for you," Arwen offered and slipped quietly inside of the room.  

A few moments later, she emerged with Thranduil and Aragorn, and their hearts were lightened to see the wizard.

"Gandalf, you must help us," Thranduil said, unable to restrain the urgency he felt in his heart.

"Help?  What's wrong," asked Gandalf, his voice full of concern.

"It's Legolas.  He's been poisoned," Gimli responded, "and gravely wounded."

"Poisoned?  Wounded?" the wizard's eyes were wide.  "He is inside?"

Aragon nodded.  

"Good.  I will need to see him immediately, but alone.  Take rest in one of the rooms, for it may be awhile before I come out, depending on his condition."

All followed the wizard's orders, but hope flooded their hearts, for their unspoken wish to have Gandalf in Gondor had mysteriously come to be reality.  In the next room, they all took some rest, for the room was large and spacious, with enough room for them all to sit and rest in body and mind.  Even Thranduil took rest, as he felt a great pressure lifted from him.  The one who could heal his son had come.

Dawn broke cool and overcast.  The sun threw its' bright rays through the heavy grey clouds that promised to bring an afternoon rain.  Dawn passed into morning, and those resting in the second room awoke out of their untroubled sleep.  But they did not venture far from the room, going only out to the hallway and back inside once more.  Still, Gandalf had not emerged from Legolas' room.

No one spoke much.  It seemed as if they dared to speak, they might break some delicate spell that hung above them.  But this did not stop their minds from wondering what was going on in the next room.  And Gimli, possessing the least patience of those gathered, fidgeted now and again, as every possible scenario passed through his mind.  After all, this wasn't just anyone that was hurt; it was his best friend, and not knowing what was going on was torturous to him.

Surprisingly, although he took to pacing the hallways once or twice, Thranduil was somewhat calmer in appearance than Gimli, though inwardly, he was the most anxious of them all.  Arwen sat with comforting arms about Aragorn, and the king held her close.

In the other room, Gandalf strove valiantly to draw the poison from the motionless, ashen figure before him.  But the poison was strong and already had quiet a hold on the elf, and it was reluctant to come forth.  It was a living poison, the likes of which Gandalf had heard rumor of Sauron creating in his stronghold in Mordor before the One Ring had been destroyed.  And as a living poison, it actually fought against Gandalf's efforts to withdraw it from the host body, for it clung to all that it came in contact with.  Luckily, it had not yet had the time to thin the elf's veins in order to filter out into the rest of the organs and body tissues, but it did have a firm hold on him all the same, and Gandalf was put to the test.

The poison would not come forth.  Gandalf was tiring.  But he would not give up so easily, and he counteracted the poison with spells of his own.  The idea would be to poison the poison; to kill the poison and allow Legolas' body to cleanse itself.  It would be risky, for the elf had lost much blood to his torture wounds and he was weak from his astonishing battle with an almost never before seen poison.  But Gandalf had no other choice.  He would have to risk the maneuver or Legolas would die before the sun set that night.  Rumaging through a small bag that he'd carried with him, Gandalf brought forth a wineskin.  From it, he gave to Legolas a sip of miruvor for strength and then cast his spell.  

Suddenly, Legolas went into shocked spasms and then his heart stopped beating.

Gandalf flung the door open and called for the help he would need.  "Aragorn!"


	20. Legolas: Dead Or Alive?

In the next room, Aragorn heard the wizard's cries and he leapt up from his chair by the doorway.  Like a deer, he bounded into the next room, and the door shut behind him, leaving Arwen, Thranduil, and Gimli confused in his wake.  What had caused such urgency in Gandalf's cries?  Although no one spoke, each guessed within their own hearts what might have happened.  They made their way into the hallway, but the heavy, solid wood of the doors and walls prevented them from having even the slightest knowledge of what was happening in the next room.  After a few moments of this, each turned back and went back into the other room.

Not long passed before one of Arwen's attendants came to them from down the hallway, and Arwen ordered that food and drink should be brought for them all, including Aragorn and Gandalf, though she knew not how long the two would be with Legolas.  Thranduil sat in a corner, absent-mindedly staring out the window at the city.  It was buzzing with life; people went here and there about their business with no idea of what was going on inside the palace walls, and Thranduil almost envied them in a way.  They did not have the cares that he now bore, knowing that his son was poisoned and dying.

Time crawled by.  At last, Aragorn and Gandalf emerged from the next room, just as the attendant was coming in with the food Arwen had requested.  Both were looking slightly haggard and wide eyed, and they sat without saying a word.

It was Thranduil who broke the silence.  "What happened?"

"Your son has been poisoned with a little know and extremely dangerous poison," ventured Gandalf, choosing his words carefully so as not to alarm or upset the elven king more than necessary.  "I have only seen it once before and even then, it was not I who tended to the afflicted.  It is a living poison and it has taken hold of his body.  I could not forcibly remove it, so I have poisoned it instead.  It was risky from the start and the shock was a little too great a strain on Legolas' body."

"No," Thranduil whispered and shook his head, knowing what the wizard's next words would be.  

Legolas was dead.  His only son and family left in Middle Earth was dead.  Unbidden tears leapt unchecked into the elder elf's eyes and he put his head into his hands.

A comforting hand was placed on his shoulder, and when he looked up, he saw Gandalf with a pitied look.

"Thranduil, my old friend, you did not let me finish what I was going to say.  Now then, it was a great strain on his body, and his heart did stop beating, but with Aragorn's help we brought him back.  He is resting comfortably for the moment in the next room."

"He is alive?"

"Yes, although I will not lie to you.  The road that lies before him will be a tough one.  For his body still must fight the poison and rid itself of it.  I have done all I can.  All hope now lies with him and not with me."

Suddenly, an irrational fear seized the elf, and he looked accusingly at Gandalf.  "But yet you took it upon yourself to almost kill him!"

Gandalf's voice remained steady and unchanged.  "There was no other choice.  Something had to be done or he would have died for certain before the night fell.  Risky though my actions were, I think they were better than leaving Legolas for dead."

The fire died within the elf's eyes and he looked thoughtful and sad.  "I am sorry Mithrandir.  I do not know what came over me."

"It is quite alright.  You are emotionally drained.  I understand."

"Gandalf," began Gimli after a lull in the conversation fell, "you said you've seen this once before?"

The wizard nodded.  "It was before the One Ring had been found in the Shire.  I was in Isengard by chance, and Saruman was tending to Radagast the Brown, another of my order.  He had been tending to a woman afflicted by the poison, when he became surrounded by orcs that had recently come out of Mordor.  Sauron had been developing new weapons we surmised, and this poison had been one of them as far as we guessed.  Radagast was healed through withdrawal of the poison, but the woman Saruman could not save.  I was there, and the poison would not come forth.  We did not think of trying to kill it because we did not know that it was in itself a living entity."

"So you think Sauron was behind what happened to Legolas?  But I thought he was destroyed when the Ring was?" Gimli asked.

"That is true, but I think there is more to this than we yet know.  Certainly, this is a product of Mordor, but Sauron is not behind this."

"We shall find the answers to all the mysteries," Aragron spoke up, assuring them all.  "I will send messengers to bring Faramir and Boromir to the palace this afternoon, for Faramir deserves the answers as much as we do."   


	21. Inquisition

After sending out messengers to bring Faramir and Boromir back to the palace, Aragorn took leave of his friends and retreated to his own quarters.  There he cast off his travel worn garments and washed the dust of the trail from himself, so that he could be arrayed in raiment more fitting for his status as Gondor's King.  When he emerged, not more than half an hour later, he was dressed in midnight blue finery, the emblem of the White Tree and Seven Stars in a striking silver upon his breast.  

As he strode through the hallways on his way to the Main Hall, where he would attempt to learn what he could from Boromir, he was stopped by Gandalf.  The wizard had once again held vigil over Legolas, and now he stopped Aragorn with an update.

"Aragorn, a word please."

"Of course, Gandalf.  What is it?  Is something the matter with Legolas?"

"No, uh, yes, well, not quite.  I did not dare say so in front of Thranduil, but I must warn you.  You know how grave Legolas' condition is."

To this, Aragron nodded.  

"Every hour that passes without his body rejecting the poison, hope for his survival wanes.  And even if he does respond, there is no guarantee that he will wake from the shadow that lies over him."

Aragorn lowered his eyes for a moment before responding in a low voice.  "I know."  He sighed.  "If only there was more that I could do for him."

"There is.  You must try and discover whatever you can when Boromir gets here.  If there is even the slightest information regarding this poison, we must try and find it, though I will admit, I do not have much hope for that."

"I will try, but I ask that you and the others be present for the questioning, for we all have need of answers.  I will call for Ioreth the nursemaid and have her watch over Legolas."

Gandalf nodded his head.  "I will gather the others."

Within an hour's time, Ioreth had come and been given precise instructions by Aragorn.  At all times there was to be someone with the elf, and it mattered not even if Aragorn were in the middle of the impending inquisition - any change in Legolas' condition was to be reported immediately by either herself or Rafa, one of her helpers.

Thick grey clouds continued to roll in, and before long, a light rain had begun, just as Stamlin, the prison guard, arrived with his brother Orgred by his side, with the chained Boromir, fuming with malice, between them.  Faramir came before them, the Steward of Gondor.  The three men greeted their king and then Boromir was led before a semi-circle of chairs, in which sat Arwen and Aragorn in the center, flanked by Gandalf, Thranduil, and Gimli, with an open seat in which Faramir took his place.

Outside, the rain whipped up into a wild storm.

"Boromir, son of Denethor," began Aragorn, "you are charged with a host of crimes under the laws of Gondor, but as per tradition, sentencing will be withheld until after a thorough and unbiased questioning is held.  Let the record show that you have been captured as the power behind a kidnapping plot as well as cruelty and torture, and attempted murder.  To what to each of these charges do you plead?"

Boromir did not speak.

"Will you not speak?"

"I do only my Master's bidding.  I do not answer to petty fools as yourself."

Aragorn did not even flinch.

"Then who is this master of yours?"

"Neither threat of death nor promise of torture will ever break my oath to keep the Master's identity hidden," Boromir responded, none too politely.  

"This master, you have seen them?"

"Yes."

"Do you fear this master?"

For a moment, a glaring hatred passed over Boromir.  It was only noticeable in his eyes, for his face remained as still as stone, but Aragorn and the others caught it nevertheless.

"How did you come to possess a poison of Mordor?" asked Aragorn, changing his approach.

"The Master has many ways of dispensing such products.  It was not hard to come by, though I dare say it will be near impossible to save the elf.  There is no cure."  At this, Boromir gave a low evil laugh to himself.

Aragorn nodded thoughtfully.  "Yes, well, we are one step ahead of you.  But come now, let us talk of other things.  What did you hope to gain from Legolas' capture and death?"

"I did only did my Master's bidding."

"So it was nothing personal?  No personal agenda?"

"The rewards for putting the Master's plan into action would have been far greater then you petty insects can imagine."

Though Aragorn did not show it, he was becoming increasingly frustrated.  Boromir had parried each question easily, never getting tripped up in subject changes.  This, Gandalf could sense, and so the wizard turned to his friend.

"Aragorn, I ask your permission to interrogate the prisoner," he asked formally.

"As you wish, Gandalf."

At this, Gandalf rose from his chair, staff upraised in his hands.  In a commanding voice, he ordered, "Foul hands of evil!  Release your grip from this man!  For I shall find your source and destroy it!"

The suddenness with which Gandalf made his move took Boromir off guard and before he could react, a single white ray of light erupted from the wizard's staff and held Boromir.  

"NO!" the man cried out and he began to curse the wizard's name.  

Seconds dragged slowly by.  Suddenly, a change came over Boromir.  He became once again the Boromir of Gondor that had been their friend and companion.  He sank to his knees, looking pained.

"Gandalf?  Aragorn?  Help me.  He's got too strong a hold on me.  Please, you must do something.  Don't let him take me again!  I can't fight him."  

His voice was that of a broken man, weary and yet desperate.  But as suddenly as his transformation had occurred, he changed back into the evil driven figure they had been questioning, for the strain to Gandalf had been great and he no longer had the strength to beat back the evil.

Again, Boromir began to laugh, a horrible, malicious laugh.  "Old fool!  What did you think you were doing?  You have not the power to match that of my Master!"


	22. Pieces To A Puzzle

As Boromir continued to relish in his victory, the rest looked on with puzzled expressions, for the change in Boromir had been a surprise, even to Gandalf, though he had been the one to command the evil out.  But now they saw that the power driving Boromir was strong indeed, and after a moment, Gandalf shook off some of his exhaustion and said to Aragorn.  

"I know what evil it is that commands Boromir.  I do not know how or why, but it is Saruman."

"Saruman!" echoed Gimli.  "But I thought after all that happened since the great war, he'd become less powerful."

The wizard nodded.  "As it should be, but this…I fear that only Saruman and Boromir have the answers, and it will be difficult to get any information out of either of them."

"Correct!" the crazed Boromir laughed. 

"I beg you," Thranduil spoke up suddenly, "just tell me how to save my son!"

"I have already said there is no cure."  
  


"There must be something!"

There was no reply.

At this, Ioreth entered the room hurriedly, but she did no speak, for a sudden shudder ran through Boromir and he made a sound as if he had been punched in the gut.  Faster and faster he shook, but for the onlookers, there was nothing that any of them could do.  He rose off the floor by several inches.  They stared, wide-eyed at the man, before he became a mere blur of motion, always sounding pained.  

After a few moments, he once again slowed until he stopped.  Falling to the floor, he pushed himself up on hands and knees, his head bent to the floor.  When at last he looked up, the hatred was once again gone and he resembled their friend.  He shook his head, trying to get his bearings, but he did not attempt to stand.

"What…where?" he began, as he regained control of himself, for far away north in the Shire, Saruman the White was struck down by Grima Wormtongue.  

Gandalf smiled.  "Welcome back, Boromir of Gondor.  The evil is gone and the shadow dissipated."

Boromir nodded his thanks, but then turned to Aragorn.  "I have done terrible things.  Saruman…he called me as I spiraled into the darkness of death.  The Ring still had hold on me, and I could not resist his call.  He brought me back to life, but he stole from me my will and turned it to his own.  He wanted….he thought he could use Legolas as a foothold to taking over the whole of Middle Earth, first by using him as bait and then toppling the kingdom of Mirkwood, from which he'd taken the other elves and finally all of Middle Earth."  He stopped, looking ashamed for having been used in such a plot.  "All I wanted was what was best for my people.  It was my one wish as I died, and for that, Saruman ensnared me."

Aragorn did not right away respond, for he needed a moment to process all he'd heard.  It was during the silence that followed that Ioreth spoke up, suddenly remembering her errand.

"Forgive me my lord," she said, and immediately Aragorn's head snapped up and his attention focused on her.

"Has there been a change?"

"Yes my lord.  Rafa and I were looking after him like you said.  And Rafa, she was fixing the blankets on him and the pillow when she says to me 'Ioreth, he's feeling a bit warm.'  'Warm?' I says and felt his forehead with my own hand and wouldn't you believe it – he was.  So I came running in according to your instructions, but then I saw everything that happened and I got a bit distracted.  Wasn't that the strangest thing you've seen though?"

Gandalf spoke up.  "You are saying that Legolas' temperature has risen?"

"Yes sir, but it's not what it seems.  Master Legolas is riddled with fever."

Aragorn rose from his seat.  "Thank you Ioreth.  I appreciate all you have done.  Gandalf, if you might examine his condition once again."

"Of course, my friend."

Thranduil had paled slightly at the newest development, but said nothing.  Instead, all rose and followed the king and wizard back down the hallways to Legolas' room.  Here waited in the halls as Gandalf entered the room alone..

Legolas lay in fevered sleep, a few thin blankets covering his body, glistening with sweat.  After ten minutes or so, Gandalf appeared at the door and stood in the threshold.  There was a look of slight relief on his face.

"His body is finally responding to my spells.  It's purging itself of the poison, though I still would like a close watch kept over him," he said.  

"I will watch," offered Gimli.

"Nay, I shall be the one to watch," Thranduil replied abruptly.  

Since the time that Aragorn and Gimli had arrived in Gondor with Legolas, the elven king had either gone out of his way to not interact with Gimli, or as in now, he'd been against the dwarf having anything to do with his son.

But Boromir peeked into the room now and Gandalf let him in.  Faramir and Aragorn followed him closely.  Once inside the room, Boromir took one look at the fragile looking figure laying on the bed and fell to his knees, weeping openly.

"What have I done?" he moaned in agony.  "What have I done?  Aragorn, you needn't pass judgment on me.  I willingly accept whatever punishments await me under the laws of the city, for I have betrayed a sacred trust, that which binds friendship and goodness."

Aragorn studied the man's face for a moment before speaking.  "No.  You wanted what was best for your people, that was your only fault.  It was a noble fault, but one that Saruman used to manipulate you.  I cannot pass judgment on the evil that took hold of you, only that which you willingly committed."

"But I wanted to live.  Surely that is a fault?"

"But why?  Why did you want to live?"

"Because I wanted to ensure Gondor's survival."

"A noble purpose, for which I can find no blame.  No, Boromir, if any decrees must be made, then it is this.  I hereby reinstate your position as Steward of the city, along with your brother Faramir."

"Stewards?  Surely you mean the son of the Steward?  What of my father?"

"I will let Faramir explain all that you wish to know, for I feel that I may be needed here with Legolas."

With this, Boromir and Faramir took leave of the king, the latter guiding the former out to another room down the hall, unsure of how he could explain the events that had led up to Denethor's death.


	23. Night Confessions

The rain ceased to fall as the sun got ready to sink below the horizon, and the night came cool and damp.  During the night vigil rotation, Gimli sat by his best friend's side.  Legolas still was racked with fever and Gimli noticed that most of the wounds he'd sustained during his captivity and torment had remained, for the most part, unchanged and unhealed, his body being too occupied with the poison to do much of anything else.  

"Well now, Legolas," he began after the silence finally got to him, "I sure hope Gandalf is right and your body can get all of the poison out.  I'm not letting you go without a fight, you hear me laddie?  You never gave up on me, even in fair Lorien when I was denied entry.  You know, I'll never quite figure out why you did what you did and vouch for me.  Ah well, a little mystery never hurt a friendship before."  He sighed.  "It's strange, the silence.  I guess I'm gotten used to hearing your voice, as quiet as you can get sometimes.  Don't leave us, alright?"

He fell silent again, into his own thoughts, and, absent-mindedly, he began to sing an elvish song.  It was that which Legolas had sung to himself while he'd been shackled and beaten in the dwarven stronghold, though there was no way that Gimli could have known that.  True, the dwarf knew only a small segment of the song and his elvish was clumsy and broken, but he made do and certainly any elf would have recognized it.

And one did, for Thranduil had been holding vigil over Legolas as well.  But as he sat in a darkened corner of the room, Gimli had overlooked him and assumed that the elven king had gone elsewhere before he'd had a chance to come onto his watch.

"That song," Thranduil said, startling Gimli, "it's always been one of Legolas' favorites."

"I know," Gimli replied softly.  "He often sang it as we traveled.  I used to hear him singing to himself at night while he was on watch."

Thranduil nodded to himself.  "But how…how did you learn it?  Surely not just by hearing it a few times."

"You are right; I didn't just pick it up.  Legolas taught me, though I dare say my pronunciation needs work.  But it was all he could do to teach me what he has!" He laughed a little.  "Mostly he taught me as we worked on the restoration of Gondor, what we've started to do in any case."

"I must say, Master Gimli, when I received letters from my son and he mentioned a friend named Gimli, I never expected you to be a dwarf."

"Oh?"

"And when I saw for the first time what you were, I was a bit taken aback."

Gimli nodded.  "It's because of the strife between our kinds, isn't it?"

"In part, yes.  But it reaches deeper than that.  You see, my father was killed by a dwarf."

Gimli paled, horror stricken.  "What?"

"He was not of your lineage, for I have spoken with Gandalf and traced you back.  It was another.  This was after the Dark Days, and my people still held strained relations with the dwarves.  My father, he got into an argument with one of the dwarves…a Tenedow by name.  This Tenedow, he was drunk, and soon the argument escalated into an all out fight."

"But surely an elf could out match him in speed and agility?  Legolas and I sometimes spar and he usually gets the better of me."

"Ah, this is true, but my father was already wounded.  Mirkwood had been attacked by evil creatures, not of Sauron, but of some older evil, and he had been wounded by one while on a hunt to slay them all.  So he was already weakened before the fight began.  Tenedow knew this and used it to his advantage.  I witnessed the whole thing.  I saw that axe hit him, I saw the blood rush forth.  But before he died, my father raised his own dagger and smote down the dwarf as he lifted his axe to deliver a second blow.  I rushed to my father's aid, but I was too late.  He lost too much blood and died right there as I held his head in my lap.  I was 60 years old at the time, and was utterly alone."

"I can understand then why you must have hated seeing your son being friend's with a dwarf, and why Legolas was so hostile towards me in the beginning."

"Yes, it did quite shock me to see that one of his best friends is a dwarf.  For every since he heard what happened to his grandfather, he carried with him as deep a hatred of dwarves as I."

"But that does not explain why he would have stuck up for me in Lothlorien or what sort of change made him decide to befriend me."

"To that, I do not know the answers, but I know my son.  There must have been something that he saw – a goodness in your soul-that made him change his thoughts.  And for that, I am grateful, for I have heard the stories of your friendship, both through his letters and from Aragorn.  And as much as I hated to admit it at first, you are a good friend to him, Gimli son of Gloin and I am glad that he has such a friend."

"And I am lucky to have him as a friend.  Your son is a good person.  I trust him with my life.  And now…now I'm afraid for him."

"As am I."


	24. A New Day Dawns

Gimli and Thranduil spent most of the rest of the night watching over Legolas, allowing the others to rest, for they found in one another great comfort.  And so, the mist shrouded morning found them, Gimli in a half sleep in his chair, and Thranduil awake, mind wandering, yet focused on his son.

It was not long after sunrise when Aragorn, Arwen, and Gandalf found them and offered to relieve them of their watch.  To this, the two agreed, for it offered them the chance to stretch and rest.  But Thranduil wanted to speak with Arwen, and the two walked down the hallways together, while Gimli retreated to his guest room to wash the sleep off of himself.

Neither Boromir nor Faramir had been seen since they had taken leave of their king the night before.  

Gandalf and Aragorn sat down by Legolas' side, checking his status.  The fever had intensified during the night and new grimaces of pain passed over his face.

"It breaks my heart to see him like this," Aragorn said, as he passed a cool wet cloth over the elf's forehead and fevered wounds.

"His body is working hard to expel the poison.  He may yet pull through this," Gandalf assured him.  "Certainly I had not expected him to make this much progress in so short a time.  I would have guessed at least two or three days before his fever got so high.  I only wish I knew more about Sauron's living poison."

Silence fell between the two, each lost in his own thoughts.  Dawn turned into morning, the mist dissipating and the sun breaking through the clouds.  All the while, no sound was heard other than the birds outside the window and the soft splash of water, as Aragorn continued to tend to Legolas..  That was why a sudden knock at the door caused both men to jump slightly.  

Aragorn answered the door.  There stood Varda, a servant.  She looked a little nervous at having interrupted their vigil.

"Pardon me," she said, eyes fixed on the floor.  "But the men at the gate claim that a giant eagle has been circling above the palace for hours."

Gandalf stood.  "I will go."  And then he turned and left he room, leaving Aragorn alone with Legolas.

The wizard had been gone for less than five minutes when Legolas began to groan in pain.  His grimaces increased in intensity and frequency.  Underneath his thin sheets, his fists clenched.

"That was my old friend Gwaihir," Gandalf said to Aragorn, coming back into the room.  "He came bearing news from the North.  Saruman the White is dead."

"Dead?  But how?"

"That fool Grima Wormtongue, stabbed him as the Shire hobbits forced them out of their lands.  Wormtongue himself was slain by those that witnessed this."

Aragorn nodded.  "That would explain Boromir's return to normalcy."

"Indeed," the wizard replied, taking up the rag from Aragorn and doing what he could to soothe Legolas, for he still groaned and shook in pain.  Finally, he put the cloth away and went to grab the wineskin of miruvor.  

But as Aragorn watched, slowly, the elf's eyes began to open, first only partially and then fully.  He blinked several times as his eyes began to focus.

"Legolas!" cried Aragorn, overcome with joy and relief.

"Aragorn," Legolas began weakly, with a smile to match.  "I…I heard you calling my name.  I tried to come back, but I could feel myself sliding back into the darkness.  What happened?  Where I am?"

"You are badly wounded but you are safe within Gondor," came Gandalf's voice.  "Welcome back, my boy."

"Gandalf!" Legolas cried, turning his gaze to the wizard.  "What is going on?" he asked, momentarily confused and forgetting the events that had led to his current condition.

"That does not matter now.  What matters is that you are safe and alive," Aragorn said.

Legolas shook his head a little.  "No, I must know."

Aragorn sighed.  "When you are stronger.  But now, there is someone who is anxious to see you."

He opened the door and called over a servant, giving them whispered instructions that Legolas was too weak to hear.  A few moments later, Legolas could hear footsteps behind him. 

_Gimli__, he thought, hearing the heaviness of the steps, for he was too much in pain to attempt to look behind him.  A different voice took him off guard._

"Legolas!"  It was his father.

Thranduil quickly closed the distance between himself and his son.  When he reached the side of the bed, he bent down and embraced him, tears streaming down his fair face.  

"Atar!" he cried, using the elvish word for father.

"I prayed so hard to the Valar that you would be alright.  Oh my son!"

It was when Thranduil finally broke from his son and hugged the others, especially Gandalf, that Legolas finally caught sight of Gimli and Arwen.  Arwen also hugged the wounded prince, and as Legolas had expected, Gimli light-heartedly joked with him.

"So, elf," he said at one point, "I suspect that now you will admit that dwarves are good better than elves.  After all, one did help save you."

Legolas looked as if he had been stricken.  

"Aww, come on now, that was just a joke.  I didn't mean any offense."

"It is not that Gimli," Legolas said as if in a trance.  Gimli noticed that Legolas had paled.  "I remember all that happened."  He looked about and as he saw his father, a wild light came into him and he spoke with sudden urgency.  "The kingdom!  They wanted the kingdom!  You must protect it atar!  You must not face my captors!  They will kill you!  They were going to use me to get to you, taking Mirkwood and then killing us both!"

"All is well, Legolas.  Worry not," Thranduil reassured his son.  "Your friends were able to capture the one responsible for everything and all has been dealt with."

Legolas began to feel himself calm down.  "Who was it?  I felt as if I had known them once before, but I could not rightly place them."

At that moment, there was a knock on the door behind Legolas.  All, save Legolas, saw Faramir and Boromir standing in the doorway, both looking prepared to hold vigil over the elf, not knowing that he had awoken.


	25. Confrontation

Aragorn made a quick motion to the two men that stood waiting in the doorway.  Boromir was to stand in place and Faramir was to enter the room.  The motion did not go unnoticed by Legolas and he immediately questioned it.  When Aragorn appeared hesitant to answer the elf's questions, Legolas tried to crane his head around to see what he could, but he was not in a good position for that and soon turned back around.

"Please Aragorn," he pleaded, "tell me what it is that I must know.  Who was my abductor?  And who is it that stands behind me?  I know it is not Faramir, for you would not have called him into the room like so."

"Legolas," Aragorn began slowly, choosing his words carefully, "perhaps you should wait until you are stronger."

"No!" he protested, "I am not helplessly weak.  I can handle knowing the identity of who is responsible for all of this."

To prove his point, Legolas attempted to push himself up and into a sitting position.  But in his weakened state, he could not, and so Aragorn gently put a hand on his shoulder, effectively stopping the attempt.

"Take it easy, my friend," he smiled at the elven prince.  "If you wish to know, then I suppose it will be hard to keep the secret much longer.  But first, I must explain the circumstances surrounding this person's part in what has transpired." 

Quickly, he told his friend about Saruman taking hold of Boromir and how he had once again become normal.  But never once did he mention the man by name, for he wanted Legolas to hear the story without having any prior thoughts of the man.  When he had finished, Aragorn signaled for Boromir to enter the room.  He did so with hesitant, measured steps, as if he were to receive his sentence from a judge.

"Boromir?" questioned Legolas, when he was finally able to see who it was that had lingered in the doorway.  Then he closed his eyes for a second and nodded thoughtfully.  "It makes sense."

"How?" asked Gimli.  "How does that make sense?  You mean you knew it was him?"  
  


"Not him exactly, but the whole time I was being held captive, I could not shake the sensation that I had known the being under those black robes from some earlier time.  And I knew that whoever it was, was certainly not themselves, that some great evil had sway over them.  But now, if I might just have some time alone to speak with Boromir?"

"Of course," replied Aragorn and Thranduil, and within a few moments, the room had emptied, save for Legolas and Boromir.

"Please sit," offered Legolas, after the last person had left.

"Thank you."  

Boromir sat in one of the chairs that had been placed at the bedside for the constant vigils that had been held.

"Legolas, I am so sorry for all that has happened!  If only there was something that I could do, some great deed that could make up for all that I have done wrong."

Legolas shook his head slightly.  "Boromir, I heard as well as you and the others did what Aragorn has said regarding what happened.  And though I am…wounded and weak at the moment, I will heal in time.  There is no harm in that."

"But what I did!  I did such unspeakable acts.  I have failed you as a friend, I have failed my king and my kingdom with my actions, for if it had not been for me, you would not be in this condition.  I almost got you killed."  The emotion broke through freely in Boromir's voice as he spoke.

"And yet I am still here."

"Only by the grace of some great fortune that gave you strength, gave speed to Aragorn, and told Gandalf to come to Gondor.  Legolas, I have no words to express the anger I feel at myself for all that has happened."

"Boromir," Legolas said, taking pity for the broken man before him, for the tears had welled in Boromir's eyes, "you cannot blame yourself for what occurred.  I certainly do not."

"Then who is to blame if not me?"  Boromir said harshly, a testament to the bitterness he felt towards himself.

"Saruman is.  It was he who masterminded the entire ordeal.  You were but a small pawn on his gameboard.  I cannot blame you for that, for it was not your fault that you were under his spell."

"It is not that easy, Legolas.  It is my fault.  It is my fault that I wanted to live, my fault that I regretted dying, my fault that my dying thoughts were with Gondor's people and the fact that I could no longer help them in their struggle against the enemy."

A smile passed over Legolas' lips, and with great pain, he moved a hand out from under his blankets and took Boromir's hand in his own.  "It all you are guilty of is a love for your people and your home, then it is a noble fault.  If your only flaw was the desire to see Sauron defeated and peace reign, then you are a lucky man to have such a flaw, for it is worthy of a man of Gondor.  Worry yourself not with what Saruman caused you to do, but rather concern yourself with what you still can do with a second opportunity at life.  I would not see you dwell on what has already passed, but I would see you look with hope and faith into the good that tomorrow may bring, and what you can do today in order to bring about the good of tomorrow."

Legolas could see how much his words had touched the man's heart, and Boromir nodded his appreciation of the elf's words.  

"But still,"said the Gondorian, after a moment, "I do not understand neither you nor Aragorn.  Despite the fact of Saruman was behind all of this, I still cannot see why you have been so quick to forgive such horrendous actions."

Another smile tugged at the corners of Legolas' lips.  "For Aragorn's part, I cannot answer, though I can guess his reasoning.  But I can speak for my own.  Boromir, you are a good man and I will not hold a grudge over what you could not control.  You are brave and noble, with a great love of your homeland and the people living there.  You have been loyal to your friends and struggled valiantly with us all after we set out from Rivendell, the newly appointed Fellowship of the Ring.  For me, these are the qualities that I see when I look at you, not a black robed figure in a dingy cell.  For that was not you, but rather Saruman himself in the guise of your body."

Legolas snuck back into his pillow, for he was feeling quite weak and was a little dizzy from hunger and from fighting the poison that had nearly claimed his life.  Boromir thought over all that Legolas had said and after a few moments, he bent and hugged the elf in a gentle embrace, always careful of the wounds that he bore.

"Thank you, my friend," was all that he could muster.  

Legolas could only nod.   


	26. A Few Small Matters

After Legolas and Boromir had spoken, the others had been called back in and they all sat around talking together, for Legolas, though tired and weak, had insisted that they stay for a while and that he was feeling up to it.  

"Can I get you anything, Legolas?" Thranduil asked while he fixed his son's pillows.

"No, but perhaps Aragorn can," Legolas replied with a humorous tone in his voice.  "For what must one do to take a little food around here?"

Aragorn laughed a little at his friend's light ribbing and at his own forgetfulness.  "Of course," he said and called for an attendant, "right away."

"Something easy to eat," reminded Gandalf, who sat smoking his pipe in one of the corners, feeling quite relaxed now that the elf was awake.  "And some lembas if you have any, for I think that may prove to be a source of strength that he needs."

Aragorn passed on all of these instructions to the attendant, who sped off right away and returned with a tray of food not long afterwards. 

Gandalf feared to move Legolas' body at all, not even into a sitting position, for he worried about the broken and cracked ribs and the many wounds covering the young prince's body.  And so Legolas was left lying down and having his food fed to him by his father.  For this, the others respected his privacy and left the two alone in the room.  

For a while, the two sat in silence, with Legolas gratefully accepting each spoonful of the hot soup and the nourishing bites of the lembas bread.  When he had finished, Thranduil put the tray to one side and straightened the blankets covering his son.  Then he stood and made ready to leave the room.

"Wait," protested Legolas, "will you not stay for a while?"

"You must take some rest, Legolas," urged the elven king.  

Legolas nodded.  "I will, but later, for I am not yet ready for any more sleep.  I wish to speak with you, but first, if you might call Mithrandir back in.  I must ask him something."

"As you wish," came the reply as Thranduil carried the tray to the door.  Slipping outside, he made his way down the hallway and found Gandalf lazily staring out of a window.  There he relayed his son's request, and the wizard strode to his room.

"Gandalf," smiled Legolas, when the first white hairs of the wizard's hair and beard were visible to him.  "I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?" came the kindly old voice, as Gandalf sat down at the elf's bedside.  

"I wanted to ask you if there was something you might do for me.  Is there something, some spell, you might be able to cast on Boromir, to help him stop beating up on himself over all that has happened.  I have forgiven his actions, for it is Saruman that I blame, but still I see how this whole ordeal is tearing him apart inside.  Is there some way that you might be able to make him forget the events of the past week or so?"

A warm smile spread over the old wizard's face.  "Truly there not many in this Middle Earth that are as compassionate as you, my dear boy.  Alas, I am sorry to say that there is nothing that I can do to help Boromir come to terms with all that has occurred.  Nor can I make him forget the events.  He is a strong man; he will deal with this in time, for you must remember that it was only yesterday that he came out from under Saruman's spell, and then we were not sure if you would awaken from your fevered sleep."

"I understand, but I thought it worth the try, for I hate to see Boromir so conflicted."

"Give him time.  But now, I think it is time that you take some rest."

"I will, but first I had asked my father if I might speak with him."

"I will get him for you.  Goodnight Legolas."

"Goodnight Mithrandir.  And thank you for all that you have done.  I know not what force told you to come to Gondor, but I am glad that you did.  If not just for my own survival, but for the support I am sure that you have been to the others, especially my father.  He is wise and loving, though rather rash at times when he is agitated by something."

At this Gandalf smiled.  "If you really must know what brought me here to Gondor, I am not sure myself.  I was visiting with my old friend Tom Bombadil when I suddenly had the urge that something was very wrong in Gondor.  Gwaihir the eagle bore me as far as Rohan, where Shadowfax met me to race with all speed to Gondor.  But you are most welcome all the same."

With a smile, the wizard existed Legolas' room, only to be replaced by Thranduil, who once again took to the seat by the bedside.

"Atar," began Legolas, once he was sure that his father was waiting for him to speak, "how upset are you with me?"

"Upset?"  The elder elf looked quizzically at his son.  "What ever do you speak of?"

"I must know how upset, angry, or disappointed you are in me.  For none of this would have happened if I had not momentarily let down my guard.  I forgot the cardinal rule of a warrior.  For I listened to the men that night hunting orcs, listening to them speak of Aragorn and Gondor's restoration.  I should not have done so; my mind should have only been on my surroundings."  
  


Thranduil smiled warmly at Legolas.  "You did only that which is natural, for you love your friends greatly.  Saruman's powers were quite potent and his mind set on one task.  Despite whether or not your mind was only on that which was around you, he would have found some way of ensnaring you.  I could never be angry with you for that.  In fact, I am rather proud of you, for I spoke with Boromir just now in the hallway, and he spoke of how bravely you acted whilst you were…under his watch.  Many an elf might have be broken in spirit having to experience some of the ordeal you survived, yet you never once cried out, never once showed loss of morale, and instead showed courage in the face of hopeless odds.  I am proud of you, my son, and I love you.  I will admit, I over heard, accidentally of course, some of that which you spoke of to Mithrandir just before.  It was very selfless of you to ask for such help for Boromir."

"Boromir is a friend and I cannot bear to see him suffer so."

"Regardless, it was still a very compassionate gesture.  But come now, Leoglas.  Please take some rest, for you are still weak from your battle and your wounds."

Legolas nodded, as he was already fighting the sleep that his body was so desperately calling for at this time.  He closed his eyes in his weakened state and blissfully allowed himself to fall into a dreamless slumber.  


	27. Calm Before A Storm?

That night, all slept peacefully, though Thranduil continued his vigil over Legolas.  But that was not who Legolas found sitting by his bedside when he awoke in the morning.  For Aragorn sat there, quietly smoking his pipe.

"Good morning," Aragorn smiled when he saw that Legolas was awake.  

"Good morning.  Did you stay here all night?"  
  


"No, your father did."

"I suppose then that you did not stay here just to be the first to say good morning," Legolas teased at the old ranger.

Aragorn laughed.  "No, not quite.  But I was anxious to check on your condition.  You gave us all quite a scare," he added thoughtfully.

Legolas nodded.  "I know and I am sorry that I put you all through that."

"There was nothing that you could have done, my friend."

"Perhaps, but I did want to thank you for everything you have done."

"Do not mention it.  You are like a brother to me.  I would not dream of doing anything less."

At that, a light knocking at the door took the attention of the two and Gandalf entered the room.  

"How are you feeling today?" he asked as he took another seat and pulled it over to the bedside and next to Aragorn.

"Much stronger," the elf replied, "though I will not venture to say that I am quite my old self."

"I should think not," laughed the wizard.  "But you do look considerably better," he said, noting that Legolas' color had returned from its' previously ashen state.  "I think you should be strong enough for me to cast one more spell.  Yes, I will cast it."

"What will this spell do?"  

"It is a healing spell…for your ribs.  Though you are elven and will heal fast, this spell will speed up that process and take away a lot of the pain that you are in.  I will warn you, however, that in the beginning, you may experience a slightly higher degree of pain and discomfort.  Do you want me to continue and cast the spell?"

A wry smile passed over Legolas' lips.  "I have experienced pain and discomfort beyond that which I had ever imagined.  I do not think that one spell can cause such pain as that.  I would greatly appreciate it if you would cast your spell."

"Alright then."  

Gandalf nodded his head and rolled his sleeves up just a bit.  Stretching his arms before him, palms downward, he began to cast his spell, speaking in a language neither Aragorn nor Legolas knew.  A warm feeling flooded over Legolas as an orange glow covered him, settling over all of his chest.  The pleasant heat lasted for a minute or two before fading away.

"Now then," said Gandalf, "how do you feel?"  
  


"Fine," Legolas smiled, though after another few minutes, small flinches of pain that crossed his face let the others know that the spell had begun its' work.

For all that day, Legolas remained in pain, which was not unexpected.  But Gandalf was still worried, for the elven prince began to feel weak again.  His condition would improve of course, but the wizard was uneasy nonetheless, for Legolas was weak as it was after fighting the living poison of Mordor.  He spoke of this concern only to Aragorn, for Gandalf did not wish to needlessly alarm King Thranduil.

Yet weak though Legolas was, that did not stop him from receiving his friends into his room all throughout the day.  Gimli in particular stayed by his side, and the two friends spent much time in discussion, light ribbing, and playing strategy games, for Legolas was quite alert mentally.  Gimli found it difficult to keep up with his friend, as was often the case when they played such games, and though he would not admit it, he was glad, for it meant to him that his friend would soon be back to normal.

Boromir too had stayed by the elf's side, feeling both lightened by Legolas' words to him the night before and yet still ashamed of his actions.  But Gandalf had been right, and slowly, the man was working through all that had happened.  Already he felt as if he could truly talk to Legolas with some degree of ease.

Day slowly faded into night, which settled over Gondor like a cool, thick blanket.  But it was not until long after the lamps had been lit, that Legolas finally admitted his tiredness.  He took a quiet supper with his father, Gimli, Arwen and Aragorn, for Faramir and Boromir had business to attend to, whilst Gandalf insisted that he see to Shadowfax.  It was after this the young elf finally let sleep take him.  

It was in the dark hours just after the moon had left its' peak that Legolas awoke.  At first he felt a little dazed and disoriented, and could not right away decide what it was that had awoken him.  His keen eyes scanned the room.  Nothing looked out of place.  And then, he saw it.  A strong length of rope tied to a grappling hook was tightly gasping at the window sill.  And from outside he heard it; the low hissing of multiple voices.

"Orcs!" he gasped.


	28. The Breaking Of The Storm

(Author's Note – Sorry about the incredibly long update time.  All of my free time between the last chapter and now has pretty much been dedicated to my senior honors thesis for college.  I also had a major computer crash around Thanksgiving and lost a bunch of files, which I have had to slowly rebuild.  The good news is, I'm almost done with everything now and such be able to get more regular updates posted)

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Instinctively, Legolas searched the table near his bed for something – anything – to defend himself with.  There was nothing.  He thought about calling for help, but the cry fell dead on his lips as he saw the first dirty hand grasp the window ledge.  After a moment, the body that it belonged to pulled up into the window frame as the orc eased himself inside.

Legolas' eyes were fixated on the orc.  He never heard the slight shuffle off to his right that signified another's presence in the room.  Only a guttural cry emerging from the figure's lips caught Legolas' attention.

There stood Boromir, his bright sword reflecting the moonlight that filtered through the scattered clouds, dappling the room with uneven patches of light.  Sword drawn, he leapt upon that lone orc.  Metal met metal with a resounding clang.  Both stumbled back a few paces from the shock of the collision.  More orcs poured in through the window.

At last, Boromir's sword found a resting place in the chest of the first orc, after feigning a blow to one side before pulling out and striking at the other.  Dark blood flowed freely as the Gondorian pulled his blade free.

Glancing at Legolas, he could see that the elf would need assistance, for several dark figures were steadily approaching the bedside.  Another host was rushing towards Boromir himself.  

"Legolas!" the man called out.  "Catch!"

Boromir had unsheathed a dagger that he held at his belt, the very belt that the Lady Galadriel had bestowed upon him in Lothlorien.  He tossed it to the elf, who deftly caught the handle.  Without a moment to spare, Legolas turned the weapon to a large orc, who held his own knife in hand, preparing to strike a killing blow.  The orc swung downwards, but Legolas was faster with his upwards swing, and the knife impaled the orc in the gut.  

The orc gasped and fell dead upon Legolas, the crude dagger falling harmlessly to one side.  With a half grunt, the elf pushed the dead orc from the bed, pulling Boromir's hunting dagger free.  Dark blood stained the blue sheets of the bed and Legolas kicked them away.

Boromir was fighting off two orcs of his own, his sword singing as it clashed with the orc scimitars as he parried blow after blow.  He managed to wound one long enough to give himself the opportunity to slay the other, his once bright sword becoming covered in blood as it sank into the orc's chest.  Pulling it free, he turned on his heel and lopped off the other's head.  Now he made his way towards Legolas' bed, for the elf was fending off the blows of three others, and from the looks of it, he was struggling.

With a sick feeling in his gut, Boromir knew that under normal circumstances, three would be a mere exercise for the elven prince.  But now – now Legolas was weakened due to the poison that had nearly claimed his life.  

Boromir's path to Legolas was interrupted as new orcs climbed in through the window and another attacked him from the rear.  His sword was knocked from his hand.  A kick from behind sent the man reeling until he crashed to his knees, surrounded in a dark sea of orcs around him.  Blows rained down upon him - savage orc punches - before he heard their weapons being unsheathed.  He groped around on the floor for his sword until at last he grasped the handle.  As quickly as he could, he swung the sword in a low arc, slicing at the legs of several of his attackers.  His plan worked well enough and the orcs fell back, stumbling to stay standing.  Boromir had just enough time to get to his own feet and deal a few quick blows to some of the orcs, ripping their chests open and making them fall at last.  

With his path clear for the moment, he glanced towards Legolas.  The elf was still struggling with the three orcs that hovered by his bedside, and the man could see how the elven prince yearned to be able to stand and fight as normal.  What Boromir did not expect was to see the few lighting quick dagger thrusts that claimed the life of the middle orc.

Satisfied for the moment that Legolas could still hold his own, the Gondorian turned from the sight and made his way towards the window, battling any orc that dared to stand in his way.  After three more orcs spilled their blood upon his sword point, the man made it to the window sill.  Here he stood and raised his sword above his head in the way that an executioner raises his axe to deal punishment.  With a primal yell he brought the blade down, severing the rope in one clean blow.  From below, he heard the yells of surprise and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the soft earth.

It was then that arrows began to whiz towards the window.  Most bounced harmlessly off of the stone walls surrounding it, but a deadly few came close to entering, and Boromir quickly withdrew into the middle of the room.  There were plenty of orcs still left he grimly noticed.  Once again he set to his task to make his way to Legolas.

Legolas had since disposed of the other two orcs and was facing a fresh onslaught from both sides.  Boromir took to the left side, skillfully moving himself into position between the elf and the orcs.  Using his momentum and his warrior skills, he forced the orcs back towards the opposite wall, felling his opponents as they came to meet his blade.  Oh how he wished he still had his horn!  He would gladly have given anything for the chance to blow but one note upon the Horn of Gondor one last time, for it seemed clear to him that none in the palace knew of their plight.  He would have to do something to raise the alarm.

He dealt several more blows, claiming the lives of five of the orcs that he was facing.  This provided him with the opening he needed, for he realized with a sudden jolt that there was a small bell resting on the top of the night table that stood next to Legolas' bed, though if one of the orcs had not crashed into it and sent the bell crashing to it's side, the man would have forgotten about it completely.  He dealt a few quick sword thrusts, slaying the remaining foes that barred his way to the door.  He he threw open the door and using all of his might, he hurled the small silver bell down the hallway, listening as it made a satisfying clamor as it bounced down two small steps at the corner.

"Help us!" he yelled after it.  "Send back up!  Orcs have breached the palace!"

Hoping that someone heard him, he pushed off of the door frame and leapt back into the thick of the battle.


	29. The Storm Passes

Author's Note – 

Amelia – Actually, I checked an elvish website which said that the translation of "ada" would be "daddy" and "atar" would be "father."  I figured Legolas was more likely to use "father" so I went with "atar." =)

Anolinde – Thanks.  My computer is operational again, but it was kinda annoying having it crash. =)

Frodo – I'm glad you picked up on the fact that no one else seems to know that this fight is going on.  I was wondering if anyone would realize that, but don't worry, all will be explained as best I can. =)

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Rushing back into the thick of the battle, Boromir could see that Legolas was in grave danger, for his bed was now surrounded by the foul creatures that had breached Gondor's palace.  With no time to spare, Boromir raced to Legolas' side and thrust the point of his sword into the back of a large orc who hovered over Mirkwood's prince, dagger raised to strike.  But for his efforts, the creature dealt a blow of his own, catching his dagger into Boromir's own chest, though the blow was dealt rashly and caught the man more towards his shoulder than his heart.   Yet in his boldness and rashness to save his friend, Boromir failed to see the one orc lingering in the shadows.  Rather, he continued to fight back the band of orcs, who pressed ever forward towards the elf laying exhausted on the bed, strength failing him.

Now Boromir struck out with fresh fury at the orcs, thankful that his sword arm was still unharmed, though the pain was great, first taking out one on the right, then to the left.  Screams erupted from the victims of his blade and steel clashed harshly against steel.  All the while, time seemed to stand still for Boromir, who wondered why none had answered his plea for help.

At last, the final orc was slain as Boromir used one swift motion to slice his throat.  He dropped his sword and sighed in relief, though he wondered why he could still hear the sounds of battle.  Arrows whizzed and Boromir realized that the palace guards had somehow been alerted to the orc invasion.  He picked his way carefully over the bodies that lay strewn about on the floor, taking caution not to slip in the pools of blood that had collected close by each orc.  Sticking his sweaty head out of the window, Boromir could just make out the dead orc bodies littering the courtyard, arrows sticking from them at odd angles.  From a higher level, he could hear the commands of the Gondorian captains being shouted to the lesser guards.  

From behind him, the lone orc that had taken refuge in the shadows of Legolas' room came forward, dagger poised to strike at Boromir, for the room was now very dark, with Boromir's figure blocking the steady flow of moonlight.  Without a sound the orc advanced, murder on his mind.  First he would strike at the man, and then, once all help was vanquished, he would complete his task to see the elf dead.  

Luckily for both the man and the elf, Legolas was still alert, though his entire body screamed for the blissful world of the unconscious.  He alone saw that final orc, and he reached blindly around him for a weapon of sorts, for he dared not take his gaze off of Boromir and the orc.  Suddenly, his hand hit upon the cold steel of Boromir's dagger.

"Boromir!" he cried out.  "Behind you!"  

Boromir had just enough time to turn on his heel when his dagger flew across the room and found a resting place in the orc's back, hitting that sensitive area between the shoulder blades.  With a gurgled cry, the orc spat out dark blood and fell to the floor, the last breath of life slowly leaving it.

Now Boromir breathed a sigh of relief and nodded in the elf's direction.  "Thank you."

"Do not mention it," Legolas fairly panted out, for he was exhausted from the exertion of the fight.

Heavy footsteps could be heard down the hall, coming closer and closer to the room.  Before long, Aragorn burst into the room, Faramir by his side, holding a torch in one hand and his sword in the other.  There were others behind, and Boromir could just make out Thranduil and Gandalf, with Arwen hanging back until it could be seen if there was battle to do.  He was about to wonder where Gimli was, when the dwarf burst through between Aragorn and Faramir, his grip like iron about his axe.

Boromir stood there panting among the scattered bodies strewn about the room, clutching his sword, which he had only just retrieved from where it had clattered to the floor.

Aragorn took a look about the room, as Faramir went and lit the candles and lamps.  As the light grew stronger, the total sum of the fight could finally be taken in.  Some two dozen orcs littered the room, dark blood splattered about carelessly.  Boromir and Legolas themselves were covered in the thick blood.

"Why Aragorn," began Legolas, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, "you've missed all the fun."

A bright gleam came into the eyes of Gimli and Aragorn, for they knew now that the elf was alright.

"You couldn't have left even one for us?" Gimli joked.

"Come Gimli, there will be time enough for jokes later," Aragorn said gently.  "Are you both alright?"

"Yes," they both answered without hesitation.

"Hmmm, you still look terrible," Aragorn winked at his friend, referencing an old joke between them.  "I will have some of the servants prepare you both hot baths and a fresh room for you to stay in.  If it is not too much trouble though, I'd like to check your wounds Legolas."  Legolas nodded.  

"Come now everyone, let us give them some privacy," Gandalf said, and soon, everyone began to drift back out, murmuring such things as "I am glad you are alright, Legolas, Boromir."

Only Gandalf and Thranduil stayed behind in the room with Aragorn, for the elven king would not be easily parted with his son now.  Aragorn began to carefully undo the bandages that had bound many of the worst wounds that Legolas bore from his imprisonment.  Some had reopened from the strain of the twisting and turning of the elf during the battle, but there did not appear to be too much damage that had been done.  Still, the Gondorian king probed and prodded the various wounds, checking them systematically before turning his attention to Legolas' cracked and broken ribs.  These he inspected with the utmost care, for he wished not to cause any sort of pain to his friend, or to disturbed the healing process.

"Your ribs are halfway healed already," he said, half to himself.

Legolas nodded.  "They are less painful than they were before.  But there is something else that presses on my mind.  How did the orcs get into Gondor in the first place?"

"I can only assume that they moved with such stealth as they could muster, lurking and hiding in the shadows.  You must remember, our defenses have still not be wholly fixed from the damage that they suffered in the war.  Good timing must have seen them creep close to the palace during a shift change of the guards, though it is likely that luck brought them to your own window."

"But what would have brought them to Gondor?" the young elf prince asked.

"They carry the mark of the White Hand," Gandalf said, fingering a broken helm.  "They must have been sent by Saruman to assure that his plan was secure.  They probably made their way to the dwarven stronghold and when they found no one there, they must have followed whatever clues they could gather as to your whereabouts.  Following the trail would have brought them straight to Gondor.  Looking for you in the palace would have been the obvious decision to make."

"But Saruman has been killed!" Thranduil spoke out, before he could stop and think about what it was that he was saying.

"Ah, that is true, my old friend," said the wizard in a gentle voice, "but the orcs would not have known that.  They would have been well on their way to the stronghold when the hobbits smote down Saruman."

A knock at the door broke them from their conversation.  A servant poked her head in.

"Pardon me my lord, but the bath for Master Legolas is prepared."

"Thank you Anala.  He will be there in a moment."

Anala bowed and exited the room.  Aragorn made ready to help Legolas out of his bed and into the bathing room.  But before he could be moved, Legolas stopped him.

"Aragorn, please.  You have done more than enough for me.  See to Boromir.  He will not admit it, but I saw one of the orcs wound him.  It was a stab wound, but it seemed a little high and near to his shoulder.  I had nearly forgotten about it until now."

Aragorn nodded.  "I will go.  I will come back to check on you later."

To this, Legolas nodded his head back and Thranduil bent to help is son into the bathing room. 


	30. A Breath Of Relief

After a brief walk down the hall, Legolas and Thranduil found themselves in the bathing room.  Here Legolas stripped out of his blood soaked clothing and eased himself into the warm water.  Fragrant athelas leaves floated on the water's surface and Legolas breathed the scent in deeply, instantly relaxing.  He leaned back against the side of the tub and closed his eyes with his head hanging down into his chest, for he was tired from the fight and wanted to gather his strength back some.  Thranduil, sitting by in case his son should need him, took pity on him and picked up a soft cloth to cleanse the wounds that covered Legolas' neck and back.  At the light touch upon the base of his neck, Legolas opened his eyes and turned his head.  Behind him and to his right, he could see his father smiling.

"Let me help," said the king and Legolas pushed off of the side so that Thranduil could reach his wounds.

A silence fell between the father and son, with only the gentle lapping of the water in the tub breaking it.  Thranduil noted how Legolas tensed each time the washcloth came to rest upon his open wounds, though his son's expression never changed.  But he knew his son far too well, and nothing that the young prince could do could pass him unnoticed.  Now the king took extra care in handling the wounds, for it broke his heart to have to case Legolas any amount of pain, no matter how small or how unavoidable.

Soon the wounds were clean and Legolas used the cloth to gently cleanse the one that he bore across his chest.  It was beginning to heal, but in a few places it had reopened.  While he tended to this wound and washed his hair, Thranduil left the room and returned with new garments for his son to wear.  These were of a deep, royal purple with intricate patterns of leaves along the edging done in silver threading.  

These are the clothes that Legolas slipped into before Thranduil returned to help him back down the hall to his new room.  Here, Legolas climbed into bed and lay back into the soft pillows.

"Legolas?" came a voice from the doorway.

"Aragorn, come in.  How fare's Boromir?"

A smile passed over the Gondorian's lips.  "I knew you would be asking.  He is well and sleeping comfortably.  You were right when you said that the wound looked rather high.  Whichever orc delivered the blow did so rashly and caught him up by the shoulder, though I will say that it's a nasty looking wounded.  The blade must have had a serrated edge and been twisted as it went in."

At this, Legolas caught his breath.

Aragorn noticed his friend's discomfort and smiled reassuringly.  "Do not worry.  The wound itself is not deep and will heal before long, though I dare say that Boromir will carry a scar for the rest of his life."

"I shall have to apologize to him in the morning."

"Agologize?  No, I do not think he would have it.  He called it a battle scar, a badge of honor for having fought the good fight.  He says the same of the scars where the arrows pierced him that took his life on the Anduin's shores.  Now, you have had a trying night.  Get some rest, my friend."

Legolas nodded his head.  "If it is the healer's wishes, I will comply."

"It is."

"Goodnight Legolas."

With that, Aragorn turned and left the room, motioning for Thranduil to come with him.

Both Legolas and Boromir slept soundly and deeply that night and well into the next morning.  It was late morning when Legolas finally awoke.  He was alone in his room, which surprised him at first, for ever since he'd awoken from his fevered sleep that had marked the end of his battle with the living poison, someone had been in his room.  A mischievous glint came into his eye and he began to push the bed covers away.  He would stand and walk about the room, for laying on his back in bed all day was slowly turning him mad.  He managed to get into a sitting position and put his bare feet on the floor before he heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall.  Quickly he got back into bed and covered up once more before the door opened.

In poked the head of Boromir.

"Boromir!" Legolas cried out, overjoyed to see the Gondorian up and about, for some sneaking suspicion had lingered in the back of his mind that Aragorn had told him that the man was doing well in order to placate him. 

"I am glad that you are awake Legolas," he said, sitting down in a chair beside the bed.  "I wanted to talk to you."

"As did I," replied the elf.  "I am glad to see that you are doing well."

"It is just a flesh wound for the most part," the man said, glancing down briefly at the bandages surrounding his wound.  "It could have been a lot worse.  Which is why I wanted to speak with you, though I have but a minute before the wizard comes to check on you.  I wanted to thank you for last night, for saving me when that orc nearly took me by surprise."

"You do not need to thank me, my friend.  It is I that should thank you.  If you had not been in my room last night, I would not have survived the attack.  You saved my life, Boromir.  I would not be here now if it were not for you."

"I did only what I could do.  I was not going to abandon you to those foul creatures."

"Nor was I.  I do not abandon my friends."


	31. A New Threat Arises

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Since you guys are such awesome readers and reviewers, I've decided to put a little more to the story.  So I hope you enjoy the bonus chapters (yes, that's right, chapters as in more than one…there's one more after this).  I love you guys….look at the number of reviews!  I've never had such a successful fanfic! 

A week passed and Legolas grew stronger each day.  His wounds healed, as did his ribs, though he carried a faint scar on his chest from the sword wound that had introduced the living poison of Mordor into his body.  It too would heal in time, fading away as the years wore on, for Legolas was of elven blood.  The orc bodies had been burnt in a large fire at Aragorn's request, for there was not much that could be done with them.  Also, there had been funeral services for several of the guards that had fallen in the orc invasion, for the creatures had killed those who stood on guard in the posts outside of the palace so that they might pass through.  These bodies had not been found until a few hours after the attack had been countered, when new guards came to relieve the men who had been on watch before them.  Boromir had been hailed as a hero, both among those within the palace and those not, for he had succeeded in destroying a great threat.

But this had all happened earlier in the week and now Gondor had slipped back into a quiet state of peace.  It was then that Thranduil came up to his son one afternoon, as the last golden rays of the sun gilded all the world.  Legolas was standing with his back to him, staring out of one of the large windows that overlooked Minas Tirith in the direction of the Anduin.  He was dressed in stately white and gold garments, a thin circlet of gold upon his brow, looking every bit the elven royalty that he was, but his posture was relaxed and he leaned easily against the window sill.

"Legolas?" Thranduil ventured, hating to interrupt his son.

"Come in father.  Is there something wrong?"

"We must speak.  I can no longer remain in Gondor, and I want you to come back home with me."

Legolas shook his head.  "I wish to stay in Gondor.  For I have promised Aragorn my help in the restoration of the city and he has offered to our people the woods of Ithilien in which to dwell."

"You would abandon the woods of Mirkwood?"

"No!  But there is much in Gondor that holds my heart here and makes me hesitant to leave."

"Your friends," Thranduil commented.

"Yes, in part," Legolas said quietly, turning from his father and looking back out of the window.

Thranduil took a moment to follow Legolas' gaze until he saw in what direction his son was looking.

"The Sea-Longing," the elven king breathed and Legolas nodded.  "How?  When?"  
  


"It was during the war.  Aragorn, Gimli and myself were guiding the Army of Dead, whom Aragorn held to their broken oath to defend Gondor.  We brought them to the harbor, for it was only with the ships that our hope lay to make it to the city in time.  We knew that the time we had was all too little as it was.  It was there that I heard the wailing of gulls, though the Lady Galadriel of the Golden Wood forewarned me of them."

"This cannot be!" the king protested.  "You are so young!"  
  


Legolas smiled and turned back around to Thranduil.  "I do not regret what I have done father.  I made my choice, as we all did.  It is the fate of all elves to pass over the sea.  My time too will come.  But do not worry, there is much that still holds my heart to Middle Earth and it will be long before I forsake it for Valinor.  For now, being close to the Anduin is enough."

Thranduil nodded his understanding, deciding to let the topic drop, for he knew that there was nothing that he could now do.  The Sea-Longing had already been stirred up within his son's heart and it was a siren call that none of the Firstborn could ignore. 

"There is something else that I needed to tell you, though until now I dared not, for I feared that you might do something rash, even in your weakened state.  But now that you are well, I can no longer keep this a secret from you," Thranduil said after a moment or two's silence.

"Something is wrong," Legolas stated, noting the tone of his father's voice.

"Yes.  Mirkwood is in grave danger.  During your time with the Fellowship, while Sauron's forces grew, so did the darkness within our woods.  Goblins and spiders have multiplied and have taken hold of some of the land that we once recaptured from them.  We have tried fighting back, but our people are losing hope.  They look for your return, for everyone acknowledges that you are the best among them with the bow.  Our people are fearful, Legolas, for the darkness creeps ever closer to our strongholds and the palace."

Legolas sighed deeply, for he was greatly disturbed by this news.  His brow furrowed into a worried look.

"I will return then, with you to Mirkwood.  Give me but until dawn tomorrow to make ready for departure and to take last minute counsel with Aragorn, for I wish to open trade between our two kingdoms.  I will send word for the attendants to have our horses ready early.  Take heart father and fear not.  I will not let the darkness take our land from us nor the creatures of evil harm our people.  Mirkwood shall once again be Greenwood the Great."


	32. Into The Sunrise

The next morning found Legolas and Thranduil in the stables before the sun had even fully risen.  Thranduil secured the last small pack to his horse and Legolas brushed down Arod while he waited.  Suddenly, a throaty voice was heard behind him.

"You thought you could sneak out without us knowing, did you?" asked Gimli as he stepped out of the shadows.  Behind him, Aragorn did the same.  "You think a pointy eared princeling would have better manners." 

"Dear Gimli, I said my farewells to you last night."

"Still, we could not let you leave without seeing you off," Aragorn spoke up.  "Arwen could not come, but she sends this along with her good intentions."  He passed a package to Legolas.  "Lembas for your journey."

"Hannon le," Legolas said, thanking him gratefully.  "Where is Boromir?"

"He and Faramir had to return to Osgilith late last night after we spoke."

Legolas nodded.  "Aragorn, I want you to know that I will return to Gondor once Mirkwood is secure, for I will not forsake the promise that I made to you to lend you my help."

"Legolas, go with no regrets.  You have done much for me already, including all that you did to ensure that the Dark Lord did not destroy the city."

"Still, I will return."

"My borders shall always be open to you and your people."

"And ours to yours," Thranduil interrupted.  "You have given me my son back; saved his life."

"I would do nothing else, my lord Thranduil.  Your son is a good friend, and I shall miss him greatly."

"As will I," stated Gimli, "though I wish there was more than I could do to help him in Mirkwood."

"No, Gimli," said Legolas with a soft smile, "this is one task that I must face without you.  Your place is here beside Aragorn."

"Ai, you speak truly, for by tomorrow my kin shall arrive to start rebuilding the broken defenses.  Still, it will be lonely around here without you and your ridiculous elvish ways."  He teased Legolas ever so slightly, knowing that it would make his friend laugh.

"Then do not be a stranger to our lands," replied Thranduil.  "For I name you, Gimli, son of Gloin, Elf-Friend, a title of honor and rarity, for you have proven yourself to me as one deserving of such distinction.  Take this," he said, slipping off the silver chain that hung about his neck, "for this pendent is of my crest.  Anytime you wish to visit my home, show this to the guards at the strongholds.  Aragorn is known to my people and so shall be permitted to pass into our lands without question, but you they do not know, and so I fear that they may suffer you to be brought before me bound as a criminal.  I will of course make them aware that you may pass into our woods, but I cannot assure that some overzealous guard may fear that you are not who you claim to be."

"Thank you," Gimli replied, and bowed to him in dwarf fashion.  "I am ever at your service, my lord."

"And I at yours, Master Dwarf.  But come, the sun is rising, Legolas."

"Goodbye my friends," Legolas said and hugged them both tightly, for being around humans so long had finally worn off on the elf and he now hugged them instead of the traditional sturdy hand upon their shoulder.

Then he turned and mounted Arod, who whinnied in anticipation of galloping across the land.

"Go Legolas, and may the Valar always light your path," said Aragorn, saluting him in elf fashion.

Legolas nodded his thanks and then urged Arod forward and out of the stable, noting the empty stall where Shadowfax had been housed before Gandalf had left to visit with Treebeard.  He did not look back as he followed his father's lead down the narrow streets of the city.  At the main gate he took his place at his father's side and together they urged their horses into a faster pace.  Still Legolas did not turn around, but rather headed into the dawn-flooded northeast.  Onward he rode, until he knew that he would be but a tiny speck on the horizon to even the best eyes looking across the land from the topmost level of the palace.  It was only then that he stopped and looked back, a single tear sliding down his flawless cheek.

"I will return, my friends," he murmured before turning back towards his home.

~*~ End ~*~


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